


iambic pentameter

by hiclaire



Category: Dreamwastaken, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, DNF, Dark Academia, Friends to Lovers, Internal Conflict, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Philosophy, Possibly Unrequited Love, Strangers to Lovers, brainrot, dreamnotfound, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28319850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiclaire/pseuds/hiclaire
Summary: Dream finds himself afraid and apprehensive. He decides to take refuge in an overseas university, where he gets to know George - or, as he refers to him, Plato.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Clay | Dream's Sister Drista (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF)/Everyone, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone, Karl Jacobs & Sapnap
Comments: 166
Kudos: 297





	1. chapter 1: plato and diogenes

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoy! just want to say that the entire name thing (plus the academic premise in general) is heavily inspired by the still point by princedemeter !! i heavily suggest checking out their work! 
> 
> here is a pinterest board i made for this story: https://www.pinterest.com/hiclairee/iambic-pentameter/
> 
> also, i highly suggest listening to this during the story (really sets the mood!): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ie5koh4qvJc
> 
> as always, if any of the parties written about ever express their discomfort for things like this, i will not be hesitant and will immediately take it down. with that being said, hope you enjoy!

Dream had never been much of the stereotypical scholar.

As much as he tried, studying never truly came easy to him. Dream valued structure and success, neither of which were ensured in an educational setting.

As much as Dream strived for perfection, even his most profound and metaphysical assignments seemed rushed and disorganized. It was as if his thoughts were confined to only being jumbled and muddled. 

Knowing full well of his academic struggles, fear was the primary feeling encompassing his mind as he prepared for his first day at university. 

Dream’s fundamental factor for choosing somewhere to attend university was always making sure it was well enough aways from his home in high school. Not only did Dream hate the atmosphere there - it was plagued with self-righteous commonalities who could barely piece together coherent sentences - but he had a rather poor relationship with his immediate family as well. They seemed to loathe his every decision, constantly berating him with unwanted and unneeded criticism. Ultimately, Dream had decided upon moving eastward, to the United Kingdom.

As Dream packed up his belongings, preparing for his plane voyage, he realized all of his clothing seemed so juvenile. Dream tried to scavenge any mature-looking items from his closet, but his attempt was futile. The clothing quite literally looked like it belonged in a Children’s Gap. Dream scoffed to himself. Once he arrived in England, he would have to stop at some sort of shop to regain items for his wardrobe. 

After a couple of hours, Dream found himself completely done with packing. Albeit exhausted, he forced himself to tidy up his room until he eventually allowed himself to sleep before his plane ride the following day.

_____________

Dream rubbed his eyes as the plane landed. The ride wasn’t completely unpleasant; when there was turbulence, it was minor, and the plane itself was fairly empty. This being said, he felt a sharp cramp in his legs from sitting for a dozen hours. Trying to shake off the pain, he begrudgingly pulled himself out of his seat and exited the plane.

After he eventually acquired his luggage, he exited the airport. Immediately, He was met with water droplets on his head. Glancing up, Dream realized the sky was overcast and it was raining.  _ What a perfect start to his life here. _

Dream grabbed onto the handle of his suitcase and ran into the nearest shop. Upon entering, he shook out the moisture from his dirty blonde hair onto the floor. Dream looked up to see the store clerk standing in front of him, glancing at the puddle his wet hair had left near the entrance.

The store clerk began laughing, “Wow, you know, this floor was in need of mopping for a while. Thanks for supplying the water,” the man joked, a British accent tracing his voice. Dream was going to comment on it before quickly recalling he was in fact in the U.K.. Instead, Dream chose to lightheartedly roll his eyes in response.

“Wow, great customer service. I’ll make sure to add ‘made fun of me upon entering’ in my Yelp review.” Dream joked back, a grin on his face. The boy laughed, a smile on his mouth as well.

“An American?”

Dream nodded.

“From where?”   
  


“Florida.”

“Oh, I see,” the boy started. “Makes sense.”

Dream felt himself raise an eyebrow. “Why does that ‘make sense’?”

“Oh, you know,” the boy’s voice trailed off. “Well, what is an American doing  _ here  _ to begin with? This isn’t exactly the most populous area in Britain, after all.”

“School,” Dream responded with a shrug.

“Ah, I see. What are you studying?”

“Majoring in Philosophy and Ethics, and taking writing courses as well.”

“Interesting. Who is your favorite philosopher...or rather the one you find most interesting?”

Dream raised his brow. Entering this store, he had not expected to be discussing metaphysical ideology with the store clerk. “Probably Diogenes.”

The store clerk nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Quite the choice. Mine is probably Plato.”

Dream grinned. “Basic, but good pick,” he started. “I just realized, I never caught your name.”

“Giving your name out to strangers is a bit dangerous, is it not?” The store clerk joked, giggling. “For now, call me…  _ Plato.  _ Won’t be difficult to remember, I presume.” The store clerk reached out his hand, a laugh escaping his lips.

Dream gingerly took it and gave “Plato” a handshake. “Then consider me  _ Diogenes _ .”

The store clerk -  _ Plato  _ \- laughed. “Ok,  _ Diogenes _ .”   
  


Dream only smiled in response.

The store clerk seemed to take in the uncomfortable silence between the two before speaking again, “So, did you need anything? Or did you come into this store just to make me put a ‘wet floor’ sign up?”

Dream rolled his eyes once again, “Wow, I never thought people in Britain would be so rude,” he commented light heartedly.

  
Immediately, he saw the man’s eyes widen, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I was just bantering-”

Dream felt a wheeze slip out of his lips. “Relax,” he said between laughs, “I was just kidding with you.”

The store clerk scoffed before giggling lightly in response.

“But, yes, actually,” Dream interjected. “I am in need of some clothes.”

“What kind of clothes?”   
  


“Like…  _ all  _ kinds of clothes?”

The man raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m starting uni in a couple of days, so I was hoping to get a new wardrobe of sorts.”

The store clerk nodded in response. “I see, I see.”

Before Dream could continue, the man grabbed him by the wrist and lightly led him to the men’s section of the shop. Dream couldn’t help but notice his face had flushed. Upon checking his reflection in his phone camera quickly, he realized his cheeks were dusted a light shade of burgundy.

He eagerly continued on, handing him clothing items in various shades of whites, browns, and tans. Dream felt his brow furrow.

The store clerk seemed to notice his reluctance. “Trust me,  _ Diogenes _ ,” he said, stretching out the name, “It’ll look good.”

Dream nodded in response and went into the dressing room. He instantly noticed that the man was correct. All of the brown tones complimented his green eyes beautifully and made his sun-tanned skin look considerably more vibrant. The various textures and patterns of the clothing only further elevated the look.

Dream exited the dressing room to see the store clerk had left.  _ Of course he had _ , Dream thought to himself,  _ he obviously would have things he would have to accomplish as an employee _ . Still, he couldn’t help but feel rather down that the man had left. That is, until he noticed a small note on the ground. The note read:

_ Hi, Diogenes. Had to finish something in the store. Until we meet again, I leave you with this. _

_ \- Plato _

Dream felt himself smile at the note. He quickly stuffed the note into his coat pocket and walked to the register with the clothing the man had so kindly picked out for him.

Before leaving the store, he grabbed his suitcase again and braced himself for the rain. 

After he had exited, he suddenly felt his hair once again be enveloped in water. His clothes, even after a few seconds of leaving the store, were drenched in liquid. Before he could continue any further, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Dream promptly turned around to see the shop clerk boy standing behind him, holding out an umbrella. “You can give it back next time,” the boy said, a grin on his face.

“Next time?” Dream asked, one brow raised.

The man nodded.

Dream gently accepted the umbrella from the man’s hand, feeling their fingers brush ever-so-slightly. Dream opened the umbrella, but before he could thank him, he had already receded back into the store.


	2. chapter 2: remarkable convictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream pushes past his apparent anxiety and journeys to his university. Here, enveloped by the candle-lit lighting, bookshelf-covered halls, and chandelier-full dining rooms, he meets an unexpected guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the link to the song mentioned in the story! 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMFs1WKGX4M
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Dream indecisively sorted through the clothes he had bought only a few days ago. He was currently standing in a hotel room, much too expensive for the quality of the actual facility. He had been staying there for the past three or so days. Today, however, he would be sleeping in the comforts (or lack thereof) of his dormitory.

Dream finally decided on a pair of tawny brown corduroy trousers, a juniper green woolen jumper, and a cedar brown blazer on top. For his shoes, he decided to put on his go-tos: worn-in, brown, horse-leather Doc Martens. 

After checking out of his lavishly expensive hotel room, he checked his wrist watch. He had a decent amount of time before he had to arrive, giving him just enough leeway to walk the few blocks it would take to arrive at the nearest bike rental shop. Dream went in, and after a few minutes, exited with a black, thin bicycle. Admittedly, biking in Doc Martens would be difficult, however Dream was incredibly proficient at cycling. He took off, and arrived at the university in minutes. 

The school itself was beautiful; vine-covered stone and wood towers lined the entrance as cobblestone paths led up to the main hall’s door. Dream felt the nervousness dissolve away for a few short moments. The school was, in a word, bewitching.

  
He followed the signs to the sign-up desk before coming face to face with a woman with a strong German accent. “Hello, there!” she said, her voice much too the spritely for the once again overcast day. “What is your name, so I can mark it off of my list?”

“Dream Toussaint.”

“Toussaint… French?” the woman asked light-heartedly, a brow raised.

“American. Just have French family.”

The woman nodded and handed him a pamphlet on his next steps before motioning for the next person in line to sign in to come forward.

Dream followed the steps and arrived at his dormitory entrance.

_ “Alcove 151 _ ” the plaque on the door read. Dream couldn’t help but laugh at this; even the doors at this academy seemed overly pretentious.

Upon entering, Dream realized his roommate had yet to arrive. He smiled at this, knowing he would not only be able to unpack his things in peace without fear of judgement, but be able to pick which side of the room was his as well.

  
The room was fairly large, one section of it containing beds and storage and the other lined with a few bookshelves and a window seat looking down on a dull green courtyard. Dream decided on choosing the right side, for no particular reason except it felt ‘right’ to him - he chuckled to himself at that poor joke - and began unpacking.

By the time he had finished, his roommate had still yet to arrive. Checking his wristwatch once again, he realized it would soon be time for the mandatory supper the school was holding in just a few hours (which he so gingerly read about in his pamphlet).

Dream fished out the vintage record player he had reluctantly decided to pack and placed one of the few vinyls he had brought on top of it. Dream smirked to himself as the notes of “Remarkable Convictions” by Trevor Kowalski flooded the room. Dream sat down and closed his eyes, letting the music entrance him. Mellow notes of the piano seemed to fit the scene beautifully, encompassing every book lined up upon the shelves and every wooden fixture upon the walls. 

  
Dream opened his eyes, only to be met with two brown ones staring back at him. Dream jumped in surprise. “What the hell?” he yelled instinctively, only to realize he  _ recognized  _ the figure standing before him.

“Diogenes?” the man asked astonishedly, a smile on his face.

“Plato!” Dream responded, grinning back.

“The cosmos seems to be playing with fate today, Diogenes.”

“She does indeed,” Dream acknowledged, giggling a bit.

“You seemed to be quite invested in that music, huh?” the man asked, smirking a bit.   
  
Dream felt his face flush, “Oh my God, you saw that? Jesus Christ. What a first impression for my roommate.” He rolled his eyes light heartedly.

The man laughed before responding, “Correction,” he said, putting one finger up in protest. “My first impression of you was you dripping onto the floor of the store I work at.”

Dream embarrassedly buried his face in his hands, groaning light-heartedly. He felt a cool hand grab his and pull it away from his head. Dream flushed at the touch.

“You can’t be all embarrassed like that when I don’t even know your name,” the man said softly, leading to Dream jokingly rolling his eyes once again.

“Why would I tell you my name?”

“Because, you want to,” the man said, nonchalantly. This response sent shivers down Dream’s body.

Dream reached out a hand. 

The man took it.

“Dream.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Dream…” he let the words linger on his tongue. “What a compelling name.”

Dream pushed back a blush.

“George,” the man greeted back with a small smile.

“Wow,  _ George _ . What a boring name,” Dream joked, leading to George playfully nudging him on the shoulder. “I’m kidding, by the way,” he said between laughs, “your name is fascinating as well.”

George turned away at this before looking back at Dream once again. “That song you were playing, earlier?”

Dream nodded.

“It was shit.”

Dream felt himself wheeze in response, and George began laughing with him. After a few moments of silence, Dream decided to speak up once again.

“We should head to the dinner,” Dream suggested.

George nodded. “Lead the way,  _ Diogenes _ .”

Dream turned away to leave, biting his lip to force the blush creeping up his neck to recede. Something about George enthralled him - beguiled him, even. As Dream walked towards the main dining hall, he turned to glance at George who was close behind him.

Objectively, he was bewitching. His pale skin glowed even in the dim candlelit lighting of the hallway fixtures. His hair was a mess, however it still somehow framed his face. His outfit was, as to be expected, elegant. He was wearing grey slacks with a white turtleneck and a black-brown petticoat. He looked like something out of the “Dead Poets Society” film. To be fair, the entire university did. Finally, his eyes. They were pools of darkness, each an individual black hole trying (and succeeding) to pull Dream in.

“Dream,” the man said, pulling Dream out of his trance. George’s face was almost bright red, but he was smiling. “You’re staring.”

Dream rolled his eyes playfully. “Why can’t I stare?”

“Oh my God, Dream. I’ve known your name for maybe an hour and you’re already a complete idiot.” George retorted, however there was no harshness in his voice.

  
Dream smiled before saying, “You’re an idiot too,  _ Plato _ .”

He heard George exhale sharply before continuing on the conversation.

_________________

Together, the men walked up towards the dining hall.

They were met with rows and rows of trestle tables, lit dimly with candlelight fixtures and extravagant chandeliers. Although it was the 21st century, this felt like something out of a 17th century novel. 

“Dear God, this looks like Hogwarts,” George exclaimed, laughing.

“Does that make me the villain then, since I’m a Slytherin?” Dream asked, nudging his rib jokingly.

“Yes, yes it does. I, however, am a Ravenclaw.”

“Oh, I see,” Dream started. “Guess that just makes you irrelevant then.”

George responded by flipping him off. Dream only laughed at his attempt to seem flippant.

The boys found a place to sit, and eventually, a few others joined their table. George seemed to scoot closer to Dream’s left side, most likely from introvertedness, but Dream didn’t mind when their legs brushed a bit.

“Hi!” one of the men greeted, sitting on the right side of Dream. Dream noticed he was American as well.

“Hi,” Dream returned, smiling.

“A fellow American, I see.”

Dream nodded.

“I’m Sapnap.” 

  
Dream raised an eyebrow. “‘Sapnap’? That’s kinda strange, isn’t it?”

  
The man rolled his eyes. “It’s a nickname, dipshit,” he said harshly, although he was clearly joking.

  
Dream laughed lightly. “Dream, by the way.”

“ _ Wow _ , you make fun of my name when your name is literally  _ Dream _ . Kinda fitting, though.”

“Why?”

“Dude, you’re like the stereotypical ‘hot guy’, obviously," the man responded with a laugh.

Dream felt a twinge of embarrassment. “No I’m not-”

“What’s your name?” Sapnap asked, now motioning towards George.

“Oh, George.”

Dream couldn’t help but notice a shakiness in his voice.

The other people introduced themselves. One, a man from the Netherlands called Fundy, another from England called Wilbur, and finally, another from the U.K. called Eret.

The men ate their dinner, making light small talk and cracking a few jokes. Dream felt him and Sapnap get along easily, them exchanging phone numbers by the end. Dream couldn’t help but notice, however, George had not been actively participating in the conversation much.

“Hey,” Dream whispered to George. “Are you okay?”

George’s face seemed to flush and he nodded. Dream had only really known him for a day, so he left it at that. He obviously did not want to pry.

Eventually, Dream heard a small ounce of mic feedback until a figure started talking. He looked to the front of the hall and realized it was the same kind German woman who had greeted him upon his entrance standing in front of a microphone.

  
“Hello, all! You can call me Niki. I am the head of student services at this campus. If you need anything, do not be hesitant to reach out. Until then, I will leave you all. Please return to your dormitories by 1 A.M., since, after all, today is your first night. I hope you enjoy the first day of your classes tomorrow! Please, for the sake of your professors, be on time.”

She was followed by a muddled sound of people with British accents saying their cheers and thanks for her help. 

  
Dream shivered as George whispered to him. “Hey, can we go?”

Judging by the urgency in his voice, Dream nodded, and quickly said his goodbyes to the men he was sitting with. 

Dream followed George back into the dormitory before speaking up.

“What’s wrong?” Dream tried to say nonchalantly, but even he could hear the concern in his voice.

“Oh, nothing really,” George’s voice began trailing off. “I’m just not the best at talking to new people.”

Dream giggled light-heartedly. “You were fine when you were harassing me in your store.”

George jokingly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but that’s different.”

“How so?”

“I’m not sure.”

Dream nodded, however he was unsure of what he meant.

“If we’re going to be roommates,” Dream spoke up, “we should probably get to know each other.”

Dream sat on the floor with his legs crossed and motioned for George to do the same. George sat across from him.

“Ok, what do you want to know about me?” George asked.

“Hmmm…” Dream thought aloud, “Favourite colour?”

George visibly winced, although there was still a smile on his face. “I’m colourblind, dumbass.”

Dream began to laugh. “That is the worst favourite colour I’ve ever heard.”

George stuck his hand out and playfully nudged him on the shoulder.

“Your turn to ask me something,” Dream prodded.

“What is something you didn’t tell someone, but really wish you did?”

Dream’s eyes widened. “That’s rather deep, isn’t it?” he responded with a smile.

“I’m going to be living in the same room as you for a year, Dream. Might as well get ‘deep’ now,” George replied, shrugging.

“Probably ‘i love you.’”

Dream watched George raise an eyebrow. “To who?” he asked with a smirk.

“My ex.”

  
George nodded. They were now sharing a  _ very _ uncomfortable silence.

“So, uh,” Dream tried to break the lack of talking between the two, “Have you always lived in England?”

  
George nodded. His face was unreadable.

“How are the British girls?” Dream asked jokingly.

  
George laughed, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m literally gay, Dream,” George said, chuckling.

Dream laughed in response. 

“Well, then, how are the British _ guys _ ?” Dream inquired once again, now fully wheezing.

George rolled his eyes, “Oh my God, Dream. You’re such an idiot.”

“You’ve called me that a lot today.”

“That’s because it’s the truth.”

Dream checked the time on his wristwatch. It was 11 P.M. already. Somehow, they had quickly lost track of the daylight. Looking through the window to his left, he could see a full moon surrounded by black sky.

  
“I’m getting tired. I’m gonna sleep now,” Dream announced.

George nodded and got up from the floor. Dream did the same.

Eventually, Dream drifted off into sleep.

_______________________

Dream woke up to the sound of sniffling. From the corner of his eye, he could see the window. It was still dark. He sat up and realized George was sitting on the window seat looking out into the courtyard, eyes bloodshot. He couldn’t help but notice how celestial he looked in the lighting, however. The pale moonlight illuminated his face beautifully. Dream's eyes widened as George turned from the window to him.

“Shit, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry,” George said softly.

  
Dream shook his head and quietly got out of his bed to walk towards him. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. Are you okay?”

George nodded, but Dream could tell this clearly wasn’t the case. Before he could protest, George wrapped him up into a hug. Dream was very much taken aback, but let him do so regardless. He felt a rush of warmth as George buried his face into his chest. They sat there like that for a while before George eventually spoke up and pulled away, “I’m so sorry, Dream.”

“Why?”

“I’ve literally known you for maybe 24 hours in total and I’m already pulling you into my problems,” he responded, clearly trying and failing to force out a laugh.

“It’s okay, George, really.” Dream didn’t dare ask what was wrong with George. He knew he wouldn’t respond honestly anyways.

  
George returned back into the hug.

Dream felt himself drift off to sleep as his eyes fluttered in the arms of Plato.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so fun to write bye-
> 
> hope you enjoyed! as always, any criticism, comments, ideas, etc. are appreciated :)


	3. chapter 3: the symposium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the aftermath of George's rather strange episode the night before, Dream and George find themselves to be bonding quickly after they discover more and more mutual interests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! woo!

Dream felt his eyes flutter as he regained consciousness. He felt a light warmth pressed against his body and soon realized it was the man he had met just a few days ago on a whim in a random shop with his head buried into Dream’s chest.

Dream slowly tried to pull himself away from the man’s grasp, careful not to wake him up. As soon as he did so, however, Dream felt George stir. Instead, Dream opted for a more straightforward approach.

“George,” he whispered softly into George’s ear. The man’s eyes fluttered in response. “Get up, we have class soon.”   
  
George nodded and began pulling away with a yawn. After a few seconds, Dream watched his eyes widen as he came to the realization of the situation the two boys were in. “Oh my God, Dream. I’m so sorry, I’m not sure how... or  _ why, _ that-”

Dream laughed and cut him off. “It’s okay, George. You need to stop apologizing for everything.”

“Sorry, my bad.”

  
Dream shot him a playful glare.

“Shit, sorry.”

“Oh my God!” Dream exclaimed laughing, and soon, George joined in.

_____________________

After the boys had finished preparing for the day, Dream turned to George. “Where do you have your first class?”

“In the East Tower. Shakespearean Literature.”

Dream grinned astonishedly. “No way. Me too!”

Dream watched as George’s eyes ignited with elation. Dream recalled their rather abrupt conversations from the day previous, where George confessed his distaste for talking to new people. Dream was overjoyed that he could be there to aid George on his first day, even if they weren’t considerably close.

“Do you want to grab some sort of morning meal before we go to class?” George suggested.

“I’d really only take some tea right now.”   
  
George nodded and grabbed Dream’s wrist. Before Dream could protest, the man was already dragging him to the dining hall.

Dream soon became aware of the height difference between the two. Dream could easily rest his chin on George’s head without even needing to lift it up. Quickly, Dream dismissed this thought. In a matter of seconds, they were coming up upon the grand hall they had eaten in the night before. To their left was a station with hot beverages.

Dream and George headed there, Dream pouring himself a cup of Earl Grey tea and George pouring himself black coffee.

“No milk?” Dream asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I prefer my coffee straight-up black.”

“Wow, George, how  _ grandiose _ and  _ pompous _ . What’s next, you only use film cameras instead of your phone camera?” Dream joked, leading to an aggressive playful elbow to the ribs from George.

“Fuck off.”

__________

The boys entered the East Tower and were met with 3 rows of seats.

“Oh, hi there!” a familiar voice called out, and from further investigation, Dream realized it was the Brit Wilbur from the night before.

Dream waved in response and sat to the right of him, soon followed by George who sat on the other side of Dream. “Hi, how are you?”   
  


“Doing well, thanks. I’m not excited for this course, though. I fucking hate Shakespeare.”

“I actually rather like his work,” Dream contested nonchalantly. “I think he’s overrated in his theatrical works but wildly under-appreciated in other aspects.”

Wilbur laughed lightly in response. “I completely disagree, but I respect your opinion.”

Dream chuckled and turned to George. George’s face was a light shade of garnet. Dream decided not to say anything; he had no intention to accidentally embarrass George at 9 A.M.

The boys all turned as a sharp looking bloke marched into the classroom. He was wearing a tweed suit and thick black glasses that sat atop his large nose. His eyes were a light shade of green, and he had a kind smile.

“Goodmorning, scholars. I am Professor Oliver Edwardes. I would like to be addressed as Professor or Professor Edwardes, and I expect you will call me as such,” he welcomed with a thick Scouse British accent.

  
Dream nodded and watched as the pupils around him did the same. 

“This semester, I would like to focus specifically on the sometimes platonic and sometimes romantic intimacy of Shakespeare’s work. At least for now, I would like you to pick a partner to work with. Obviously, not for the intimacy aspect, but to be able to have two points of views to dissect the different perspectives of Shakespeare’s genius.”

Dream was about to turn to George when Wilbur started talking. “Dream, would you like to work together?”

Dream was about to respond when he felt a light tug on his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see George staring at the interaction between the two as he pressed onto Dream’s hand.

“I’m sorry Wilbur, but I’m pretty sure George and I were planning on working together,” Dream responded with a sincere smile, trying to hide the blush that George’s sudden touch had caused.

“No worries,” Wilbur said with a smile before getting up to join all of the others who were mingling and looking for a partner to work with.

Before Dream could turn to George, he felt a soft voice whisper in his right ear. “Thank you.”

Dream turned and smiled. “No worries, George. I felt like working with Wilbur would be  _ way _ too awkward anyways.”

George giggled lightly as Dream heard the professor clear his throat.

“Ladies, gentlemen, others, I assume you have found a partner by now. Today, we will be focusing on the actual history of Shakespeare, just as an introduction of sorts. I am assigning a small project due our next class period for you and your partner to complete today. I would like you to make a small presentation on one aspect of his life that I assign to you.”

He gave each pairing a variety of subjects before arriving at where Dream and George were sitting. “You boys will be focusing on the relationship aspect of his life.” The professor handed Dream an information packet and walked away.

  
Once Edwardes was out of earshot, Dream dramatically rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, we got like the  _ worst  _ one.”   
  


George shrugged and grinned in response, “I don’t know. It seems like it could be fun.”

The professor spoke up once again. “You can all disperse around the campus to complete your assignment. Please, dear Lord, use your time wisely.”

George turned to Dream with a smirk. “I know exactly where to go.”

He grabbed Dream’s wrist and practically yanked him out of the East Tower. He finally let go when they reached a small door outside in the courtyard. 

“Jesus, George. Why do you keep dragging me everywhere?” Dream asked with a chuckle.

Dream asked as George’s eyes widened, “I’m sorry, Dream. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said sincerely.

Dream elbowed him jokingly. “It’s fine, George. It’s fun. Calm down,” he chuckled.

George rolled his eyes as he opened the door.

  
Immediately, the boys were met with a small room lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves and candles. In the middle of the wooden floor (which couldn’t have been more than 64 square feet in total) was one brown leather couch. 

Dream grinned. “Where the hell did you find this?” he asked in awe.

George shrugged. “I just went exploring the other day before I unpacked my things and found this. Pretty cool, huh?” he asked with a smile.

  
Dream nodded and sat down on the couch. George sat next to him, and Dream could instantly feel their legs touch. 

“Okay, let’s get started,” Dream suggested, pulling a packet out of his satchel. Dream and George began reading, eventually stopping when Dream yawned and his eyes fluttered in and out of sleep.

“You tired?” George asked quietly, and Dream nodded.

Dream drifted out of consciousness as he felt his head lean on a supportive base. He wasn’t sure what it was, but allowed himself to fall asleep on it nonetheless, his thoughts clouded by exhaustion.

___________

A couple of hours later, Dream stirred awake and slowly took in his surroundings. The “supportive base” he took refuge on turned out to be none other than his partner’s shoulder. 

Immediately, Dream flinched up. “Oh shit, I am so sorry, George.”

  
George giggled in reply. “First I fell asleep on you yesterday, now you on me today? We are a mess, huh?”

Dream chuckled lightly in response. “I guess so.”

“While you were asleep, I did most of the presentation. You will have to talk most when we actually physically present it, though. I would’ve asked for your input but I didn’t want to wake you.”   
  


Dream smiled earnestly at George’s simple act of courtesy. “George, you didn’t have to do that.”   
  
George light-heartedly rolled his eyes. “Well  _ someone _ had to, since the other was drooling on my shoulder,” he mocked jokingly.

“You’re an idiot, George.”

“Don’t steal my line.”

“Dickhead.”   
  


“Dickhead with a shoulder you drool on, apparently.”

Dream and George continued bantering back and forth until they finished editing the project. George checked the time on his phone before smiling at Dream. “It’s almost 2 P.M. Dream, and I have a class at 3, so I should probably get ready for that and go.”   
  


Dream smiled back. “No worries, dude. Thanks for working so hard on the project.”

“Thanks for using my shoulder as a pillow,” George giggled back.

  
“Fuck off,” Dream called out as George left the small room. 

After a couple of minutes, Dream did the same.

___________

Dream had another class at 3:45, Philosophy and Ethics, and Dream begrudgingly pushed himself through it. It wasn’t that it wasn’t interesting - Dream had always rather enjoyed learning about different ideologies. The entire time, however, Dream felt himself thinking about a certain person: George.

Something about George twisted Dream’s mind. He had only truly known him for a little over a day, and yet he couldn’t strip the man’s image from his mind. Through discussions of Aristotle and Socrates, all Dream could think of was him waking up in George’s arms that morning.

The situation only worsened when his professor began speaking on Plato.

George was a sickness that Dream had contracted, and he couldn’t seem to find the cure. The illness was quick-spreading, contagious, and fatal.

After his class, Dream returned to the nook he had been in earlier.

Dream walked over to the bookshelf-lined walls and scoured the spine of each individual story. Finally, he saw one that piqued his interest: “The Symposium” by (and who would’ve guessed) Plato.

Dream walked over to the sofa and stretched his legs onto it. Soon, he began reading.

The words of Plato flooded his being and he soon began to understand why George was fascinated by him.

_ Love is expressed through propagation and reproduction: either physical love or the exchanging and reproducing of ideas. _

Plato eloquently illustrated how and why humans love. Dream found himself incredibly invested in the text, turning page by page until he was almost done.

Dream flinched as he heard the door open.

“Dream?”

George’s brown eyes were staring back at him.

Dream smiled nervously. “Oh, um, hi,” he replied.   
  
George walked up to him and tilted the cover of the book up so he could see the title. “You’re kidding… Plato?”

Dream nodded.

“Wow, I guess I am just living in your head rent free, huh?” he joked, giggling.

“Fuck off,” Dream replied with little bite to his voice.  _ If only he knew how correct he truly was _ .

“So, what do you think?” George asked, motioning for Dream to move his legs to sit next to him. Dream did as he suggested and felt his face blush.

“I really enjoyed it actually. Plato’s belief that justice, truth, equality, and beauty were forms of true good is rather agreeable.”

“Oh, fuck off,” George said, nudging him playfully.

  
“What?” Dream asked back, meeting his eye contact.

“You don’t have to talk like you’re giving a literal lecture when you’re talking to me, Dream. Loosen up.” George said, giggling.

  
Dream rolled his eyes. “I try to, but once I’m in the ‘academic’ mindset, I can’t get out of it. Probably a side effect of absolutely sucking at school in general.”

“You’re joking.” George said, his face now unreadable.

  
Dream lifted an eyebrow.

“It took me a week to get through ‘The Symposium,’ Dream. You finished it in literally less than a day, and analyzed the meaning as well. You are a literal genius.”

Dream elbowed him lightly. “Shut up.”

George giggled, “No, I won’t shut up. You’re smart, Dream. Anyone can see that.”   
  
Dream was becoming increasingly aware of how close the boy and he were. Instinctively, he felt his gaze travel to George’s lips.

_ Shit _ . He quickly turned away, fighting back the blush that he knew would be apparent on his cheeks. 

“I should… probably go,” Dream said abruptly, quickly collecting his things.

“Wha-” George started, but before Dream could let him finish, he hastily left the room.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed ahhaha - also i just want to preface to any philosophy nerds that i've only read a few short excerpts from plato's works so i kinda b.s.ed that part and wrote what i could so im sorry if it isnt accurate lmao


	4. chapter 4: a burgeoning of reverence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George continue to fight through the struggles between the two as they work to succeed in the academic aspects of their life as well.
> 
> ( tw for this chapter // blatant homophobia )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said in the summary, there is a tw for homophobia.
> 
> there will be a warning in bold and once it is over there will be a message in bold + a summary if you dont feel comfortable reading the text. 
> 
> read at your own will :) stay safe & you're valid :)

Dream ran out to the courtyard, unsure of where to go.

  
If George were to look for him, which secretly, Dream hoped he did, the first place he would check would most likely be their dormitory.

Only knowing one other area in the campus (Dream had not had time to explore the campus as George did), Dream headed towards the East Tower.

Inside, he was greeted with familiar eyes staring back at him. 

“Wilbur?” Dream asked, dumbfoundedly. 

  
The man was sitting with his legs crossed on one of the chairs in the first row, a book just below his head. 

“Oh, Dream. This is unexpected,” Wilbur greeted, along with a small wave.

“Why are you… _here_?” Dream asked, his brow now furrowed.

“Oh come on then, at least _pretend_ to be excited to see me,” Wilbur said with a chuckle, leading to a giggle from Dream as well.

“But jokes aside, Edwardes is my uncle. That’s why I’m taking this godforsaken class in the first place.”

Dream nodded.

“What happened to your little boyfriend, then?” Wilbur asked with a smirk. Instantly, Dream felt his face grow red.

“Wha- who? I don’t-”

“George, I mean,” Wilbur clarified, laughing softly to himself.

“I’m- we’re not… he’s not-”

“Relax, man, I was kidding with you,” Wilbur said, wheezing to himself.

Dream felt himself relax his shoulders.

“Lord, was it funny to see you both blatantly flirting with each other during Shakespearean Lit this morning, though.”

Dream was once again taken aback, “We weren’t flirting, Wilbur. Fuck off,” he said, but there was no bite to his voice.

“Jesus, Dream, you talk like that as if you weren’t whispering in his ear acting like you were madly in love with each other,” Wilbur was full-on chuckling now.

“Shut up, dude. You don’t know me,” Dream said, feeling his brow furrow. _Who the hell was this man to say these things? They had barely even had a full-on conversation before this_.

“That’s true. I don’t,” Wilbur said, his face now illegible. He seemed to smirk lightly after glancing at something before once again speaking.

“But he does,” he continued, motioning at the now-opened door frame.

Dream turned around to look, met with his roommate standing there, thumbs twiddling.

“George, how lovely of you to join us,” Wilbur welcomed with a smile, arms open.

Dream watched George smile weakly in response.

“Dream, what are you doing here?” George asked, his hand on the back of his neck.

Dream was about to talk when Wilbur interjected. “-Clearly, he was looking for somewhere to hide. I was here, though, so that plan was foiled.”  
  


Dream felt himself roll his eyes. _God, this guy was a piece of work_.

“Why were you hiding, Dream?” George asked, and Dream could hear a twinge of concern in his voice, “I was worried. You just… you just ran off.”

Dream felt a sharp feeling of guilt. “I’m sorry, George, I didn’t mean to worry you, I was just worked up, that’s all.”

“Did I do something?” George asked in reply, his eyes almost begging Dream to respond.

Dream glanced around and realized Wilbur had exited the East Tower. _At least the bloke could understand when he should leave._

“Of course not,” Dream said reassuringly. “I just… I don’t know, got into my own head.”

George nodded before smiling back sincerely. “Happens to the best of us.”

_______________

The following day, the boys prepared to walk over for their presentation. Neither of them had spoken on Dream’s abrupt exit the night before from the small nook, and Dream was grateful for it. They entered the classroom and sat where they had the day before.

Dream felt a voice whisper in his ear.

“You’re telling me after the discussion you two had yesterday, you’re not literally _in love_ with each other?” Wilbur asked quietly so only Dream could hear it. Dream responded by flipping him off.

Each of the groups took their time presenting when it was eventually Dream and George’s respective turns.

The boys were almost done when Dream began reading off of the final notes George had drafted up on Shakespeare's personal relations.

**Trigger Warning starts here ( tw // for blatant homophobia and the single use of a derogatory term)**

“Shakespeare’s personal identity itself is crowded in uncertainty, as well. For example, many historians contest on whether or not he was heterosexual. He was quite obviously married to Anne Hathaway for a 34-year period, however during this time, it is said that he objectively had both affairs with men and women,” Dream started, about to turn to the next bullet note when a certain student in the audience spoke up.

“So Shakespeare was a fuckin’ queer! Bet he's burning in hell!” he shouted out, leading to laughs from the few students around him who were most likely his friends.

Dream’s eyes widened immediately as he turned to Professor Edwardes, who looked absolutely mortified. “Jesus Christ, Mr. Jones. That type of language, and behavior, for that matter, is inexcusable in my classroom.”

The student, called Alton Jones, only snickered at this. The entire situation baffled Dream. How had momentary chaos matured to such disarray? Dream turned to glance at George, who looked absolutely ghastly. His face looked grey and his eyelids looked like they were fluttering.

“Get out of my classroom, you prick,” Edwardes shot out, pointing towards the door. Dream watched all of the other students’ eyes widen, but Dream couldn’t help but appear stoic. It was as if the man’s snarky remark had turned his skull to concrete, even though he wasn’t even part of the community his words affected. Dream watched apathetically as Jones marched out, practically chuckling on his way there. 

**Trigger Warning ends here (summary: While speaking about Shakespeare’s personal life, another student yells out a homophobic comment)**

_What the hell?_

“My lord, that was chaotic,” Edwardes said with a nervous laugh, leaving all of the students (Dream included) to force out an apprehensive chuckle as well. “Jesus Christ, blimey. I’ll tell you what, you can leave the class a couple hours early. After all, that tumult has me in no mood to continue teaching.”

Dream watched the students leave and watched as George stood still, still standing where they were while presenting. “George,” Dream pointed out, “We can leave now.”  
  


George didn’t respond. He simply left the hall silently, and Dream followed close-by. 

“George?” Dream said quietly, now walking by his side.

“Yes?” George croaked out, his voice cold and emotionless.

Dream was a bit taken aback, but pushed on nonetheless. “George, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he responded plainly. _Noted, George is a dreadfully bad liar_.

“Well, that’s a lie.”

George looked up to face him, “No it isn’t.” His arms were crossed now.

Dream turned to do the same, and they were no longer walking, but facing towards each other with their arms crossed in the middle of an empty path. Dream almost laughed at George’s response. Dream watched as George’s gaze slowly moved upwards, taking in just how much Dream was towering him by. 

“You’re too tall.”

Dream scoffed light-heartedly and pretended to be dramatically hurt, “Ouch, George. You don’t like how tall I am?”

Dream watched as George’s face softened as he giggled. “No, I don’t,” he replied, smiling.

“Why?” Dream said, now inching closer so the height difference was more visible. “Am I too intimidating for you?”  
  
Dream watched George gulp and as his face grew red. Dream secretly melted at his amorous response, but collected himself not to let his reaction manifest physically. “You’re not intimidating,” he croaked out.

Dream smirking, lessening the space between them once again. His head was only a little over an inch away from the other now. “How about now?” he asked, his voice soft and low.

George seemed to gulp again. “Y-yes.”

Dream watched George’s gaze move from his eyes to his lips. He tried to ignore it, but couldn’t help but feel pride he managed to do this to George.

Immediately, Dream felt himself wheeze.

“What?” George asked, his tone slightly concerned.  
  
Dream couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re-you’re all flustered!” he said between wheezes, practically collapsing from laughter.

Dream watched George roll his eyes. “Oh my God, Dream. I literally hate you.”

“Oh come on now, you don’t mean that,” Dream said, still laughing.

“I do mean that. I am going to murder you, _literally_.” George said, and this made Dream laugh even harder.

“How are you going to murder me when you blush at the sight of me?” Dream joked, leading to an aggressive playful ebow to his ribs.

“I hope you die, Dream.” George said rolling his eyes, although his tone was soft.

Dream only shot back a toothy grin in response.

_____________

After the boys eventually went and had dinner, they returned to their dormitory.

Dream was exhausted; he was in no mood to do any work for his Philosophy class (Plus, it was light work - They were analyzing an excerpt from Kierkegaard’s works, and he had already read both Either/Or and Fear and Trembling).

Dream and George collapsed into their respective beds. They sat in silence before Dream heard George speak up quietly.

“Dream?” he whispered.

  
George turned to his other side on his bed so he was facing him. Dream did the same. “Yeah?”

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier, by the way. I was just a bit shaken after what that guy said.”

Dream frowned earnestly. “Don’t apologize, George. He was being a total dick. I would’ve been mad too.”

George seemed to smile - Dream wasn’t completely sure, as he was having difficulty seeing his features clearly in the dim lighting. Nonetheless, he looked “pretty.” 

George’s eyes widened, “Wh-what?” he stuttered out. Immediately, Dream felt a wave of embarrassment pass over him.

_Shit, he said that out loud_. 

“What?” Dream tried to respond nonchalantly, but he could hear his voice waver.

“You are so strange, Dream,” George said while softly giggling.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dream asked, once again acting fake-hurt.

“Nothing bad. Just, different.”

“Different,” Dream repeated, before he eventually felt sleep encompass him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! as always, any comments, criticism, ideas, etc. are appreciated!


	5. chapter 5: iambic pentameter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?  
> Thou art more lovely and more temperate:  
> Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
> And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just finished my first story, "awake at dawn" so now im going to have more time for this one!! hoping to update fairly soon :)

Dream had taken a liking to his roommate. Not one of amour or courtship, but of sheer admiration. They had shared a few rather inopportune moments together, always resulting in one of the two with their cheeks blossoming with the colours of an Azalea flower.

He had found that George had begun opening up to him more. It was a drastic change from the afraid and benumbed boy he had found on the window-seat when they shared their first night together at the university, but it was a welcome one all the same.

One night, as both of the boys were clearly unable to sleep (which Dream could decipher due to the constant sound of sheets being moved from across the room) Dream opted to tell a story.

“George?” Dream asked, just quietly enough that George could hear it if he was already awake but not startling enough to wake him if he wasn’t.

  
“Yeah?” George replied, voice low and raspy from what Dream inferred was exhaustion.

“Do you know the story of Theseus?”

“I don’t believe so. Why?”

“I’d like to recount it to you. That is, if you’d like me too. My mind is way too awake for me to actually find peace in sleep,” Dream suggested, hoping his enthusiasm wasn’t  _ too _ audible in his request.

  
“Sure, I’d love that,” George responded, and Dream watched as he stood up from his bed. Dream did the same, and they both silently and mutually decided to migrate to the window-seat. The window itself was open, the large tan and ivory drapes slowly moving from the light wind that the autumn weather had brought upon them. 

“Theseus was a grand hero. He was the son of Aegeus, and the King of Athens,” Dream started, watching as George nodded along understandingly. “There was a creature - a monstrous one, really. An eater of men, boasting a tail and head of a bull and the body of what looked like a human.”

“Sounds like you, Dream,” George said with a light chuckle, which resulted in a playful punch from Dream in response.

“Fuck off.”

After a moment or two of silence, George spoke up. “Go on, then. Continue,” he urged.

Dream nodded. “Theseus, a cocky one, truly, decides he shall be the one to put an end to the Minotaur. He promises Aegeus that, if he is successful, he will change out his black sail for a white sail, letting Aegeus know the outcome. Eventually, Theseus stabs the Minotaur in the throat and immolates him.”

“So, happy ending?” George asks, a sincere smile on his face.

Dream shakes his head. “Theseus forgets about the sail, and leaves it black. Aegeus sees this and kills himself.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ indeed.”

George smirks up at him, a devilish look in his eye “-and then, Theseus was sent to the Underworld along with Pirithous to rescue Persephone. They were caught, however, and were stuck there until Heracles saved him. When he returned home, Theseus was met with an uprising from one of the old Kings of Athens. Out of anger, he sailed away to Scyros, but when he got there, the King pushed him off a cliff and he died. The end.”

Dream stared at the man, eyes wide and mouth agape. “You said you didn’t know the story!” Dream exclaimed, tone riddled with astonishment.

George giggled, “I’m not gonna lie, I’ve heard the story like a thousand times. I just wanted to hear  _ you _ tell it.”

Dream rolled his eyes, “Dipshit.”

George wheezed before adding, “By the way, you forgot to talk about Aegeus almost poisoning Thesus.”

Dream flipped him off. “Am I not a good enough storyteller for you, George?” he asked apathetically to appear as sarcastic as possible.

“Nope,” George responded, a cheeky grin plastered onto his face.

“Goodnight, George,” Dream said, getting up from the window-seat and dissolving back into his bed.

“Goodnight, Dreamy.”

“Fuck off.”

_______________________________

Dream and George walked into their Shakespearean Literature class. It had become a daily thing for Wilbur to make baseless claims about Dream and George’s friendship.

Today, when Dream sat next to him, he whispered, “You know, George is staring at you.” Dream rolled his eyes, but glanced to his right - he  _ was  _ staring. Even this thought sent a feeling of animation through his chest. “You’re blushing,” Wilbur said quietly, chuckling lightly. Dream simply elbowed him lightly.

Professor Edwardes cleared his throat as he entered the East Wing. “Good morning, scholars. Today, we are focusing on-” he paused, for what Dream could assume was dramatic suspense, “Shakespearean sonnets!” Edwardes smiled, as if he was expecting the students to cheer at this.

From his left, Dream heard Wilbur cheer. “Woo! Yeah!” he yelled out, and Dream wasn’t sure if he was genuinely excited or doing it ironically.

“Thank you, Mr. Soot,” Edwardes said, a wry smile. Wilbur gave him a thumbs up back. 

“Shakespearean sonnets are unquestionably intimate, and I want you to experience them as such. Find somewhere quiet and visceral to read the sonnet I assign you and your partner.”

Dream and George were assigned Sonnet 18.

“Do you want to go back to that nook-type place?” Dream suggested.

George shook his head. “The other day, I found a much cooler place. Follow me.”

George practically skipped away, and Dream briskly followed in his path.

Eventually, they walked up to a small garden door lined with vines and begonia flowers. Opening the gate, Dream took in the smell of wildflowers and lemongrass. In the middle of the garden laid a white, porcelain bench surrounded by various types of pulchritudinous greenery. It was dazzling.

“Holy shit, George, this is beautiful!” Dream exclaimed, beaming towards George. Dream felt a wave of contentment as he found George grinning back at him.

“I’m glad you like it,” George said, his tone earnest.

The boys sat down on the bench as George pulled out the sheet of paper they received with their sonnet.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;”

George started speaking, and paused. Dream shifted after realizing George’s eyes were fixated on him. 

“G-George?” Dream asked, gulping.

George quickly broke eye contact and continued.

“Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;”

Dream was entranced by the words George was reciting. They obviously weren’t his writing, but it felt deliberate, as if George  _ wanted _ to say this to him. It simply felt organic.

  
  


“But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

Dream watched as George bit his lip.

“Done,” George said with a smile, now moving his eyes from the page with the sonnet to Dream’s gaze. Dream wanted to respond with something witty, but his throat felt too dry to respond.

“Did you know this sonnet was written in  _ iambic pentameter _ ?” George asked, breaking the silence.

Dream shook his head.

“Do you know what iambic pentameter  _ is _ ?” George queried, his voice laced with candor.

Dream shook his head once again.

_ Why? _ he asked himself - he knew what iambic pentameter was. He had read this sonnet an almost countless amount of times.

“Iambic pentameter is sometimes considered the ‘love meter’ because of its resemblance to a heartbeat. The rhythm goes, ‘unstressed, stressed, unstressed, stressed,’” George explained. 

Dream knew this, but he felt himself reveling at George’s explanation. “Go on,” Dream urged.

“Can I?” George asked, gesturing to Dream’s chest. Dream raised his eyebrow in response. “Listen to your heartbeat, I mean,” he clarified, and Dream reluctantly nodded in response.

Dream swallowed the lump in his throat as he felt George nuzzle towards his chest. Even Dream could hear his heartbeat excellerate loudly, whether from nervousness or confusion.

  
  


Dream looked down as George moved his head subtly to look up at him. “Are you…  _ scared _ ?” George asked smugly.

Dream rolled his eyes, responding, “Wh-what?”

George giggled lightly. “Your heartbeat,” he started, moving his ear back to Dream’s chest. “Ba-bump, ba-bump,” he said, audibly recounting how quick Dream’s heartbeat sounded.

Dream chuckled lightly.

“Do that again,” George said softly. Dream raised an eyebrow. “Laugh, I mean,” George resolved. Dream forced out a laugh. “It feels nice when you do that.”

“Wh-what?” Dream said, watching as George raised up his head.

Dream’s breath hitched as George raised his head up. He followed George’s eyes as he glanced down at Dream’s lips. Dream couldn’t find it in his lungs to speak.

George inched closer to him.

“Dream?”

“Yeah?” Dream responded almost breathlessly.

“Can I hug you?

Dream nodded as George wrapped his arms around his neck. He didn’t know why, but George’s touch felt electrifying. It felt unbleached and organic. It felt full of raw emotion.

Dream finally forced his body to pull away and he stared at George’s face. It was flushed crimson and his eyes were wide. He had on a sheepish smile. Dream wondered if he looked the same.

Dream quickly took in the events that had occurred. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” he muttered to himself, quickly gathering his things. He glanced over to George and watched his face drop.

“Dr-Dream?” he started, his voice faltering. “Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry, George, I didn’t mean to- I… Sorry,” Dream said, hurrying frantically out of the garden.

“Dream!” he heard George call out, but Dream refused to turn around.

_ What the hell? _

Dream didn’t like George- hell, he didn’t even like men in general.  _ It was just a hug _ , he reminded himself. It didn’t mean anything.

Even so, Dream couldn’t shake the feeling of just how  _ euphoric _ it was. The embrace was riddled with longing, as if he had wanted to do this for weeks.

He didn’t, he reminded himself.

_ He didn’t want this _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finallyyyy some clarification on the title lmao :)
> 
> hope u enjoyed :) notes, criticism, comments, etc. are always appreciated


	6. chapter 6: a distinct individual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could not shake the shock of jubilation he felt from the ghost of George’s touch. It wasn’t like the fearful and supportive hugs they had shared, but rather, it was a much more impassioned embrace.
> 
> Passion that Dream did not want, that is.

That afternoon, Dream arrived nearly an hour early to his Philosophy and Ethics course. He couldn’t find the gallantry to return back into his dormitory for fear he would meet George there.

Throughout the entire class, he could not shake the shock of jubilation he felt from the ghost of George’s touch. It wasn’t like the fearful and supportive hugs they had shared, but rather, it was a much more impassioned embrace.

Passion that Dream did  _ not _ want, that is.

Today, his professor was rambling about Erich Fromm. Dream found Fromm to be interesting (he was a democratic socialist from Germany) but even his intrigue could not pull him out of the tangled mass of thoughts that had manifested itself in his brain.

They began reading excerpts from Fromms’  _ The Art of Loving _ .

_ “Love isn't something natural. Rather it requires discipline, concentration, patience, faith, and the overcoming of narcissism. It isn't a feeling, it is a practice.” _

― Eric Fromm, The Art of Loving

_ Love _ .

_____________________

Dream refused to return to his dormitory that night. He was well accustomed to George’s behavior now; he knew George was waiting there, and when Dream eventually went, he would lure him to stay so they could discuss why Dream had left so suddenly.

If only Dream knew those answers himself.

Dream did not know who to call - he would call Wilbur, but he knew that would only raise his suspicions about their so-called “relationship”. Instead, he opted to message Sapnap, the man he had gotten along quite well with during their first supper at the university.

Sapnap offered Dream to sleep on the sofa of his room, and Dream gladly obliged. Eventually, he arrived at Sapnap’s dorm and knocked. The door quickly opened to a grinning Sapnap in black slacks and a white button-up dress shirt accompanied with black suspenders. His black hair was tied back with a white leather band.

“What’s up, dude?” Sapnap greeted with a grin, motioning for Dream to enter. Dream waved back sheepishly and entered his room. Upon him slipping in, he realized the difference between their two dormitories. While Dream’s was tidy and organized, lined with books and parchment, Sapnap’s was chaotic and all of the books were laid in a sloppily pile on the floor. On the shelves, where the books  _ should’ve _ been, were sports magazines and trinkets.

The bed across from what Dream assumed was Sapnaps was stripped and without sheets, the truly only ordered thing in the room. “Do you not have a roommate?” Dream asked curiously, an eyebrow raised.

  
Sapnap shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips. “I used to, but the dude got  _ super _ fucking homesick, and just dipped.”

Dream nodded. An uncomfortable silence was shared between the two, before Sapnap (thankfully) spoke up. “So…,” he started, “if you don’t mind telling me, why did you need to stay here rather than your dorm?”   
  
Dream felt his face flush with embarrassment, “Uh… it’s- well… it’s-”

“I get it,” Sapnap interrupted, “Boyfriend issues with George?” he asked with a smirk.

Dream’s eyes widened as he lightly elbowed Sapnap in the ribs. “Jesus Christ, George and I are  _ not _ like that. Also, why would you think that anyways?” Dream asked, his voice much more accusatory than he would’ve hoped.

Sapnap wheezed in response. “Relax, dude, I’m just joshin’ you. But, for the record, Wilbur has been keeping me up to date.”

Dream rolled his eyes. Wilbur,  _ of course _ . “Wha-what did he tell you?” Dream asked without thinking.

Sapnap chuckled. “Enough,” he replied.

“I don’t like him, by the way. I am literally straight,” Dream added defensively.

Sapnap rolled his eyes light-heartedly. “What _ ever _ dude,” he said, giggling lightly.

Dream felt himself laugh out too.

The boys spent the rest of the night bantering and cracking jokes, and for the first time in hours, thoughts of George had completely slipped his mind.

____________________________

The next couple of weeks or so, Dream had forcibly created a wall between himself and George. He would sit on the opposite side of Wilbur so he was not next to George during their Shakespearean Literature class, he would leave the dormitory early so he was gone before George awoke, and he would get to the dorm late at night when he knew George would already be asleep.

Despite his efforts, Dream still felt himself wishing to spend more time with George. Still, he fought the urge. The only thing George would bring Dream was shame and confusion, two things he could not afford on his mind while he still had the burden of university on his shoulders.

It had been two weeks since the hug incident with George, and although many would brush it off as a friendly embrace, the thought of George’s arms around his neck and his face buried in George’s chest immobilized him. He couldn’t erase the picture from his mind.

Finally, Dream decided he wanted to discuss the previous happenings with George. He had arrived at his Shakespearean Literature class early, as always, but instead took his original seat between George and Wilbur rather than the one on the opposite side he had been sitting in for the past couple of weeks.

At this, Dream could feel George’s gaze widen. “Dream?” he asked reticently, although his tone seemed almost cold.

Dream turned to meet George’s eye contact. Watching the pools of dark brown staring back at him, Dream allowed himself to admit that he missed looking intently into George’s eyes. “Can we talk after class?”

  
George only nodded in response, and Dream felt a feeling of disappointment arise in his chest when George removed his gaze from Dream and turned to where the Professor would soon be teaching.

Dream eventually got through the class (which, to him, felt hours long) and met George at the doorway. 

“Where do you want to talk?” George asked, his tone apathetic.

Dream shrugged, “The Nook?”

  
George nodded and headed out without a second glance towards Dream.

The boys arrived at the small door and entered, both sitting on the small sofa with their thighs brushing lightly.

“What the hell, Dream?” George finally said, now staring at him.

“Wh-what?”

George laughed bitterly in response, almost sounding in disbelief. “What do you mean  _ what _ ? You’ve been outwardly ghosting and ignoring me for  _ weeks  _ without reason! Do you expect me to just be  _ okay _ with that?” he scorned, his voice almost a yell.

Dream felt his expressionless face falter. He hadn’t even addressed the possibility that George would be mad at him for not talking to him, when he had already strangely run away. Dream had assumed that would be enough to make him hate him and not seek out Dream’s presence anyways.

“I’m sorry, George,” he breathed out, his voice unsteady.

“For what?” George asked with an icy tone.

Dream thought for a second before continuing, “For a lot… I guess.”

“Go on,” George urged.

“First, for like… completely running away after we hugged.”

George laughed lightly, “Yeah, that was a bit strange.”

“Also, for completely avoiding you for the past 14 days.”

George snickered light-heartedly, and Dream swore he could almost see a smile grow on his face. “Yeah, why was that exactly?”

Dream, quite honestly, wasn’t sure. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m just in my own head.”

“Then get out of it,” George said with a shrug.

“W-what?”

“Get out of your head,” he responded nonchalantly.

  
“That’s a little more difficult than you’re making it out to be, George,” Dream replied with a chuckle.

George rolled his eyes, “No, no. Trust me, I have an idea.”

“I trust you, Georgie.”

George punched him playfully. “ _ Anyways _ , imagine you have the brain of someone who is incredibly brave, intelligent, or what have you. Got that far?”

Dream nodded.   
  
“Now, respond to the situation as if you were them.”

  
Dream thought to himself, knowing almost instantaneously who he would choose:  _ George _ .  _ How would George respond to this situation? _

Just as Dream was pondering this, the door of the nook creaked open. Instinctively, he practically jumped out of the sofa. He stared at the doorway and was met with a considerably tall man with green eyes and blond hair staring back at him. To Dream, he simply looked like the more attractive version of  _ him _ . Same eye colour, same hair colour, same bone structure. Except, this man in the doorway seemed considerably more well-built and masculine looking.

“Oh, God, George! I’ve been searching for you everywhere!” the man yelled out, a strong Welsh accent to his voice. Dream’s eyes widened as he watched the man walk to George and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Dream felt a growing sense of agony manifest itself in his stomach. He rushed out of the nook.

He faintly heard George calling out for him, but his words were muddled by the incoming flood of Dream’s thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dream is not getting off easy in this story. nope.
> 
> okay this is somewhat unrelated but i just read the novel "a song of achilles" and oh my god its so good. it gave me ideas for like a king au story with dsmp!george ... would anyone be interested in that ahahha?
> 
> cw// capital letters 
> 
> ALSO - IIT IS CURRENTLY 11 PM AND SAPNAP JUST TWEETED OUT A PICTURE OF PATCHES??? WWHAT THE FUCK?????


	7. chapter 7: a celestial experience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not sure.”
> 
> “You’re never sure, huh?”
> 
> “I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy :)) this chapters a little on the longer side compared to my past ones (i think?) so hope you enjoy!!

Dream’s brain was so entirely clouded by the wildly untimely event he had just encountered that he had not registered George quickly chasing after him. Soon, George caught up. 

It happened in only a matter of seconds.

A certain tugging of Dream’s blazer, a tangle of limbs, a slipping of Oxford shoes on the wet courtyard grass.

Dream slowly took in George and his situation; Dream was pressed onto the grass, practically pinned down by George who had collapsed onto his chest. Dream felt the unusually comfortable warmth of George’s body remove itself from his as George stood off of him and offered him a hand.

Dream reluctantly took it.

“Sorry about that,” George said with a sheepish smile, although his eyes were ridden with concern.

Dream only shrugged, “It’s whatever.”

George chuckled lightly and motioned to Dream’s jacket, adding, “That grass stain on your blazer isn’t exactly ‘whatever,’ though.”

Dream glanced at his blazer, which was most likely ruined now, and shrugged again. He wasn’t sure what exactly to say.

“You need to stop fucking running away, Dream,” George chided, tone now unreadable.

“W-what?” Dream responded, quickly feeling his face warm and flush.

“I’m sorry if a man kissing me made you uncomfortable, but-”

Dream’s eyes widened. “No, no,” he interrupted quickly. “It’s not that… Definitely - uh, definitely not that.”

Dream watched George’s shoulders relax as he raised an eyebrow. “Then, what?”   
  


Dream looked up, as if he was searching his brain for an answer that he quite honestly didn’t know. “Not sure.”

“You’re never sure, huh?”

“I guess so.”

George placed a supportive arm on his shoulder before reaching out his opposite hand with his pinkie finger elevated. “Promise me you won’t keep running away, Dream?”

Dream rolled his eyes but intertwined his pinkie with George’s nonetheless. “Promise.”

George chuckled lightly. “Thank God, Professor Edwardes has been emailing me nonstop on how our ‘personal inconveniences’ shouldn’t interfere with our partnership in class, so I’m sure he’ll be elated to know you won’t be circumventing me any more.”

Dream elbowed George playfully in the ribs before he came to a realization that once again made his heart sink.  _ The man with the Welsh accent _ .

“So, uh, who was that exactly?” Dream asked, immediately regretting it once the words fumbled out of his mouth.

“Who?”

“The uh…” he didn’t want to say it. “The kiss guy?”

George nodded understandingly before a smirk crept up his lips. “Why, you jealous?” he asked smugly.

Dream’s face immediately reddened. “No, no, I-”

“Relax, Dream. I was just kidding with you. And to answer your question, his name is Bowen.”

Dream gulped before asking his next question, afraid of the answer George would give. “So, are you guys like…”

George seemed to laugh at this. “ _ Dating _ ? Oh, God no. He is one-hundred percent straight. He just kisses people on the cheek as a greeting thing. I don’t even know. According to him, it’s what Welsh people do as a greeting with their close friends. I’m not sure I even believe that, though. He’s probably just a big softie.”

Dream felt the burden creating a vapor in his brain dissipate. “Oh, cool,” he responded, trying (and failing) to hide the smile of relief that had manifested itself onto his face.

“You’re strange, Dream,” George said, a smile on his face.

“Different?” Dream responded, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” George replied, a smile now visible on his face too. “Different.”

__________________________________

Dream entered his dormitory after his Philosophy and Ethics class even later than usual. This time, it wasn’t to avoid George, but rather that his professor had kept him considerably late, feeding him comments and criticism about his in-depth study on a Philosopher of his choice (of which, he chose Plato).

Dream was met with a note on his bed. Just like the dormitory around him, it looked like a prop out of a 1980’s pedantic school drama. In messy calligraphy, the parchment read:

_ Hi, Diogenes. I believe our discussions in the alcove and in the courtyard were both lacking. If you’d like, you can meet me in the observatory at 24:00. Until we meet again, I leave you with this. _

_ \- Plato _

Dream immediately was reminded of the note George had left him on the floor of the shop he had been assisting him at. Dream checked his wrist watch. 

_ 23:47 _

In order to get to the observatory on time, he would have to rush. He quickly threw on an oversized tan duster jacket in place of his grass-stained blazer. He gave his outfit a one-over; the jacket was accompanied with Sienna-brown slacks and a white turtleneck. He nodded to himself before jogging out of his room and through the candlelit halls of the University. 

He struggled following disconcerting and unclear signage before eventually finding the observatory. 

He carefully climbed up the thin spiral staircase, paying attention to the intricate carvings of celestial bodies in each of the creaky wooden steps.

Upon silently exiting the dark staircase, he was met with the blinding light of twinkling stars overhead. Millions of white speckles dusted the ceiling, planets and moons gliding across the stratosphere. Across the room, he could make out a figure in the shadows, arms resting begrudgingly with their face turned towards the wall.

“George,” Dream greeted softly, slowly walking towards him.

Dream turned, eyes wide with what Dream could infer was relief. A small smile was visible on George’s face. “Dream, I didn’t think you were coming,” he offered, his voice matching the softness of Dream’s.

Dream glanced at his wristwatch.  _ 00:09 _ .

“Shit, sorry I’m late,” Dream apologized, face-palming his cheeks.

George laughed softly. “It’s no bother, Dream. You’re here now.”

Dream nodded. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“If I’m being honest,” George started, finger pointed up towards the ceiling, “I really only made that up as an excuse so I could show you this.”

Dream felt his face soften as a giddy grin replaced his features. “George, next time, you could just ask, you know? I would’ve gladly come here with you.”   
  
Dream watched as George’s eyes widened. “You would’ve?”

“Yes.”

Both of the boys silently stared up at the ceiling, admiring the divine parties of light dance upon the blue-black sky.

“You see that one?” George asked, glancing at Dream.

He pointed to a set of stars making up the shape of some sort of animal. “Yeah.”

“That’s Leo Minor.”

Dream smile grew a bit wider, “I'm a Leo!” he exclaimed, much more enthusiastic than he meant to.

George chuckled in reply. “I know.”

“How?” Dream asked, a smug eyebrow raised.

“I-I… You told me once, I think,” George replied. If Dream didn’t know any better, he would almost think George sounded  _ flustered _ .

“I like your jacket, by the way,” George added, quietly.

Dream giggled teasingly. “Oh, yeah?”

George nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for like, ruining your blazer earlier.”

Dream rolled his eyes. “It’s not ruined… it just,” he paused, and smiled. “It has a memory attached to it now.”

“A memory of being stained by grass, sure,” George said, quickly receiving an elbow in the ribs from Dream.

After a few seconds of silence, Dream jumped in shock as music began flooding the room. George laughed at his surprise.

“Relax, they play music in here at half-hour intervals,” George explained, pointing to a small speaker hidden on the wall that Dream hadn’t previously noticed.

***(QUICK AUTHORS NOTE: I HIGHLY SUGGEST LISTENING TO THIS DURING THE NEXT SCENE** [ **https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWzPom9ik-g** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWzPom9ik-g) **)***

Dream closed his eyes, taking in the soft notes of piano. He slowly let the music encompass him as he had the first day at his University.

“Dream?” he heard George ask, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

  
“Do you wanna, maybe…” he sounded nervous. “Do you wanna dance?”

Dream giggled, but noticed George’s face seemed unusually serious. “D-dance?” he asked, being met with a nod from George in response. “Uh, sure.”

Dream apprehensively moved closer to George and wrapped his arms incredibly loosely around his waist. He was sure his face had turned a venitian red when he felt George’s arms wrap around his neck. George giggled, “Calm down, Dream. No need to be nervous.”

Dream rolled his eyes, trying to hide his apparently evident anxiety. “‘M not.”

George nodded, chuckling softly. “Sure.”

Slowly, Dream felt George’s grip on his neck tighten, and Dream cautiously tightened his grip on George’s waist as well. Soon, they began absorbing the rhythm of the music, moving closer and closer and becoming more and more graceful with each glissando and crescendo. They moved like cogs, spinning directly together as if they were meant to fit with each other. They were both objectively poor at dancing, and yet their moves together worked well and cohesively.

Dream stared intently at George’s features, watching each crevice and curve of his face as he laughed, smiled, and more of the like while dancing. With his face illuminated by the star-covered ceiling of the observatory, he looked almost other-worldly. Between the boys’ baltering, Dream felt George’s gaze land on him as well. 

“You’re staring,” Dream pointed out, breathlessly. 

He watched George’s throat gulp. He soon realized he was close enough to practically hear it.

“Why can’t I stare?” George asked, and Dream wasn’t sure if it was smug or sincere.

This was the same conversation they had had weeks ago in a certain candle-lit hallway, except Dream was the one asking.

“You can,” Dream offered.

George’s eyes seemed to widen at that. “I can what?”

“You can stare.”

George giggled a bit. “You are so different, Dream.”

“ _ Different _ ,” Dream repeated.

The music had faded out, the song finishing, and yet Dream had hardly noticed. His hands were still tightly sitting on George’s waist. Dream felt his face burn as George’s hands slowly moved from his neck to his jaw.

“ _ Diogenes _ ?” George asked quietly.

Dream flushed but nodded lightly. If George wasn’t as close to Dream as he was, he wouldn’t have been able to see it.

“Can I hug you?” 

Dream thought for a second. “No,” he replied quietly.

George’s hands seemed to loosen their already soft grip on his jaw at this. “Oh,” he said quietly.

“ _ Plato _ ?” Dream whispered softly.

George nodded.

“Can I…” he paused. “Can I kiss you?”

Dream watched George’s eyes widen, and before Dream could apologize for his question, or perhaps even play it off as a joke in fear, George had pressed their lips together firmly. Taken aback, Dream pulled away. He smiled before, much to his delight, he was pulled back into the kiss. He released his grip from George’s waist and instead opted to run his fingers through George’s dark brown hair. George was rubbing circles with his thumb on Dream’s jaw as he continued to kiss him.

Eventually, the boys mutually pulled away.

“That was cool,” Dream said, giggling lightly.

George elbowed him. “Cool?” he exclaimed out of joking annoyance. 

“You’re kind of an idiot, George,” Dream said with a smile. 

“Fuck you, Dream,” George said, clearly trying to hide a smile of his own.

“You wish.”

Dream wheezed as George gasped. “Dream! What the hell!” George shouted.

Dream rolled his eyes.

The boys spent the rest of the long night laughing and giggling together underneath the blanket of stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (obviously spoiler warning)
> 
> here's the fluff y'all have been missing hahaha
> 
> my pinterest board for the scene: https://www.pinterest.com/hiclairee/the-observatory-/
> 
> honestly, i was considering not making them kiss in this scene, and just ending it at the dancing, but i decided f it. dream deserves some happiness (at least for now eheheh >:) )
> 
> also, im not gonna lie, i have been planning this observatory dance scene for tooooo long. glad i could finally write it ahaha
> 
> by the way, this week ive been super busy so i apologize for the inconsistent uploads! will hopefully update friday :)
> 
> as always, any comments, criticism, etc. is appreciated :)) ily all


	8. chapter 8: an enigma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was new, unfamiliar, and tantalizing. Days later, however, they still had yet to speak on the events that had ensued. It felt as if George was avoiding him; he would be already gone when Dream woke up and would not meet his gaze during their shared class.
> 
> Dream couldn’t fault him, though.
> 
> Dream had done the same to him only weeks before.
> 
> * very slight tw for mentions of homophobia!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * very slight tw for brief mentions of homophobia!!
> 
> (felt i should make sure to reiterate)
> 
> also, shameless plug, i just began a new work (a dream!smp George King AU!) and if you want to check it out i would appreciate it :))

Dream was still unsure of where his and George’s relationship lied.

Three nights ago, he and George had kissed - multiple times, actually.

It was new, unfamiliar, and tantalizing. Days later, however, they still had yet to speak on the events that had ensued. It felt as if George was avoiding him; he would be already gone when Dream woke up and would not meet his gaze during their shared class.

Dream couldn’t fault him, though.

  
Dream had done the same to him only weeks before.

The air was growing much more numbingly crisp. Instead of the pale blue sky that stretched overhead during their initial time at the university, it was now replaced by constant grey dullness. The courtyard grass had dried and turned a shade of fawn. Winter was approaching them.

With winter came the talks and announcements of a gala of sorts.

Niki, the woman Dream knew as the head of student services with the light German accent, had called all of the students onto the courtyard one bitterly cold morning.

“Hello, all!” she welcomed, her voice much too excited for how miserably cold it was. She received groans and murmurs of a hello in response. Niki cleared her throat and continued. “As you all know, this University prides itself on the yearly David Ball.”

Dream let his eyes glance around the crowd of people and watched eyes and smiles widen. Apparently, from what he had heard, the Ball was arguably the best part of their university experience for the majority of students. He let his eyes wander to a certain man.

His dark hair looked mussed and his dark circles were much more pronounced than usual. His posture was straight and proper, as always, but there was a certain patheticness to him, as if in any moment his stature would break and collapse. Dream quickly looked away when the brunet boy met his gaze.

Dream had tuned the announcement out, but assumed it was over once Niki had left where she was speaking and the students slowly dispersed.

Dream reluctantly forced himself to walk to George. At least if he talked to him, he would know he attempted to figure out why George had so aggressively put up metaphorical barriers between the two.

“George?” he asked softly, and watched as George looked up into his eyes. Upon moving closer to him, Dream could see the redness of George’s eyes and the puffiness of his nose.  _ He had been crying _ , Dream inferred.

George stared at him for a second, wildly pink eyes sending a piercing feeling towards Dream’s chest. Before Dream could continue, George collapsed into his chest with a hug.

After lightly pulling away in shock, Dream slowly wrapped his arms around the back of the other boy. He could feel a wet spot on his shirt, proving his theory that George was tearing up. 

“George, can we-”

“Later,” the boy said weakly, still crying into Dream’s chest. 

  
Dream nodded, careful not to disturb where George was hugging. “Later.”

______________________________

After anxiously getting through the day, of which felt like lifetime's worth of waiting, Dream returned to his dormitory.

Upon entering, he saw George sitting on the window seat, face turned looking out to the now frost-ruined courtyard. It looked like when Dream had first truly seen him, their first night at the university.

George turned, greeting Dream with what looked like a sad smile. Dream took this as his cue to walk over and sit next to him.

“Hi,” Dream said softly.

George chuckled weakly in response, “Hi.”

Dream gave him an expectantly understanding look. Dream waited for a few seconds before George continued.

“I assume you’re wondering why I’ve been… not as  _ present _ ,” George started, gaze not meeting Dream’s.

“Lil’ bit, yeah,” Dream responded somewhat light-heartedly in order to dissipate the awkwardness between the two.

“My-” George started. Dream watched his eyes as they grew pinker and light speckles of liquid formed in the inner corners. Without thinking, Dream pulled him into a hug. Dream felt a wave of relief as George’s tense stature seemed to relax into his arms and torso.

“My- my father,” George croaked out. 

Dream raised an eyebrow, although he soon realized George couldn’t see it due to the boys’ placement. “What about him?” Dream asked, the tone of his voice barely passing the line from nonchalant to concerned.

Dream felt a twinge of guilt but quickly pushed it away as George pulled away from his arms to look into his eyes. “There’s- apparently- there’s… there’s,” George started, voice laced with nervousness.

“Take your time, George.”

George nodded, pausing before continuing. “In the observatory, apparently, there are- there are security cameras at night. I’m so, so sorry Dream. I didn’t know,” his voice shrieked out, breathy and broken. Dream placed his forehead against George’s for comfort.

“It’s okay, George. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

George seemed to be taking larger and more prominent breaths. “But- but my dad.”

“What does he have to do with anything?”

Dream felt George gulp. “You know the David Ball?”

Dream nodded very lightly so their foreheads wouldn’t disconnect.

“I am George  _ David _ , Dream. Kipp David is my  _ father _ .”

Out of shock, Dream pulled away. Kipp David, quite well-known philanthropist and investor, had helped fund and create the very university he had been accepted to.

David, although respected, was infamous for his poor familial relationships. Dream had read an article about it, once. It was titled: “ _ Kipp David, father of the British Economy but still not a Father to his Children _ .” At the time, he had laughed at how long and wordy the title was for a news headline. At this moment, however, he was not laughing in the slightest.

Dream pressed a light kiss to George’s forehead, feeling some of the anger and sadness in his stomach dissipate as George’s distraught face softened.

George continued. “He saw the camera footage.”

Dream’s eyes widened. It was one thing for a random, mundane school employee to find them being quite intimate with each other, but a globally well-known business mogul, who just happened to be his roommate’s father, was a completely separate ordeal.

“George,” Dream spoke up softly. “What  _ is _ this?”

“What is what?”

Dream motioned a hand at the two of them.

“Us?” George clarified.

Dream nodded.

“Why can't we just be  _ us _ ? I’d rather not label this, Dream,” George said, eyes glossed over with bright tears.

Dream nodded. “Why is it such a big deal that your dad saw the footage, then? If it’s just  _ us _ ?”

George gave Dream a pointed look, eyebrows raised, as if he should already know the answer to that.

“Dream, there is a very good chance I will literally be barred from hanging out with you if my father finds out you were the one I was kissing,” George said matter-of-factly, placing a soft hand on top of Dream’s.

  
“Does he not know it’s me?” Dream asked, leading to George shaking his head in response.

“No, and I intend to keep it that way - for both of our safety. We just should keep it a secret for now.”

“Why can’t he know it’s me, though? Does he have some vendetta against me or something?”   
  
George weakly laughed at this, leading to Dream forcing out a smile. “No, not that,” George started, “More like… a vendetta against  _ your kind _ .”

“My kind?” Dream asked, very confused.

“G-guys,” George clarified softly.  _ Oh.  _ Dream nodded understandingly. 

“Do they not know? You told me you were gay within like hours of us meeting,” Dream said light-heartedly, leading to a soft giggle from George.

“He does, he’s just in denial I think. Also, it isn’t my fault I thought you were charming after our first meeting.”

Dream shot him a smug grin. “Georgie, you have had a crush on me since the day we met?”

George rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. Dream felt a warm feeling in his torso as he watched George’s face redden.

“George,” Dream whispered, smirking. George looked up to meet his eyes. Dream moved his head so he was directly over George’s, George staring up at him looking like a lost puppy. 

“Y-yes?” he responded. Dream could see him gulp again.

“Are you blushing, Georgie?” Dream asked, watching George carefully to make sure he wasn’t making George uncomfortable.

George lightly shook his head. “No,” he responded, rather timidly compared to how he was speaking earlier.

Dream brought his face closer so he was less than a centimeter from George’s. “Are you sure?”

George barely shook his head, eyes fixated on Dream’s lips. Dream almost giggled at how obvious George was being. “Dream?”

Dream raised an eyebrow. 

“Kiss me,” he said softly.

“What did you say, Georgie? I couldn’t hear you,” Dream said smugly, biting his lip.

“Kiss me,” George responded to him, voice more sure of himself. Dream lightly grazed his lips over George’s, watching as George closed his eyes and promptly opened them after he realized Dream hadn’t physically kissed him. George gave the blonde an eye roll. “Piss off, Dream, just kiss me.”

Dream giggled as he smiled into the kiss.

They sat in the embrace of the other in the comfort of their dormitory when a light creaking noise manifested itself from the other side of the room.

The door had opened.

The boys turned to see a person staring back at them, eyes wide.

_ So much for keeping this a secret. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed
> 
> sorry for the lack of updates lmao,, exams have been kicking my ass rn
> 
> ...
> 
> also! feel free to check out a new work i created, the throne is blue!


	9. chapter 9: the library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream could overhear Sapnap and George bickering, George’s tone much more harsh and cold than when he and Dream jokingly argued.
> 
> Dream enjoyed knowing George’s soft and kind voice was reserved solely for him.
> 
> The ball would be taking place in two weeks.

A medium-height man with a black undershirt and a white jacket stood before them.

His white bandana almost covered his eyes, but Dream could still easily make out his expression.

“Dream?” the man exclaimed, a tone of both astonishment and laughter lacing his voice.

Dream and George jumped instinctively and untangled themselves. The warmth of George’s body was replaced by the burning sensation of shame.

“Sap-sapnap?” Dream croaked out, face blazing red with embarrassment.

The man entered the dormitory and let out a chuckle. “Jesus Christ, Dream, when Wilbur said you had boyfriend troubles, he wasn’t kidding.”

Dream’s eyes grew wide. “We’re not- he’s not technically-”

“Your boyfriend?” Sapnap finished for him, an eyebrow raised. Dream slowly nodded. “Oh, so you just make out with all of your friends then?”

Dream heard George lightly giggle at this, which eased the tension pulling at Dream’s heart. 

“George, right?” Sapnap said, turning to look at George. Dream knew that Sapnap knew his name; throughout the time he was ignoring George, Dream used Sapnap as his confidant and explained his situation. Dream assumed he just wanted to somewhat casualize the conversation

George nodded. “Yes, I’m him,” he responded, a small twinge of nervousness audible in his voice. Dream felt himself intuitively place a supportive hand on the brunet’s lower back. Dream watched as Sapnap raised a smug brow.

“You guys are cute together,” Sapnap continued, laughing to himself. “You know, just a couple weeks ago, Dream assured me,” he began, now pulling a laughably bad Dream impression, “‘I don’t like him, by the way. I am literally straight.’”

George seemed to break at this. Dream’s face flushed as George began cackling with laughter. Dream fought the urge to smile at the sound. “Drea-Dream being  _ straight _ ?” George choked out between wheezes, “Yeah, it was _ really _ straight when we-”

“Shut  _ up _ , George,” Dream interrupted, voice stern but still laced with humor. His face was now blazing. At this, George and Sapnap seemed to laugh even harder.

“I would like him to finish that sentence, actually,” Sapnap said with a smirk, which led Dream to get up and slap him jokingly on the face. Sapnap whined in joke-pain.

“Sapnap, jokes aside, please, don’t tell anyone,” Dream said, his voice becoming more sincere as he spoke.

“If you keep making out with your door unlocked then it looks like I won’t have to ‘ _ tell _ ’ anyone as it is,” Sapnap joked, leading to a sharp look from both George and Dream.

“Please, Sapnap. I know I don’t know you very well, but  _ please _ ,” George said, his voice growing soft. Dream adored when his voice took such a light and gentle tone.

“ _ Relax,  _ dude. My lips are sealed,” Sapnap said, grinning lightly.

___________________________

Dream noticed after this, George seemed to cling towards him more. He would be more outwardly affectionate, even in front of their close friends. This was yet another teasing point from Wilbur during their Shakespeare class, but it was well worth it.

Dream had discovered a newfound appreciation for reading with George. Reciting poetry with him was especially exciting. The man always seemed to be on the edge of his seat, as if George truly cared about what Dream was saying.

Dream had also pushed himself deeper into his studies on philosophy. The beliefs of men like Nietzsche and Descartes flew around his head, giving Dream much to think and talk about on late winter nights. 

Much to Dream’s enthusiasm, Sapnap and George had gotten incredibly close. Dream could overhear Sapnap and George bickering, George’s tone much more harsh and cold than when he and Dream jokingly argued.

Dream enjoyed knowing George’s soft and kind voice was reserved solely for him.

_ The ball would be taking place in two weeks. _

Sapnap had, one day, knocked on Dream’s dormitory door when George was busy doing something else across campus.

“Oh,  _ Dreamy _ ! Can I come in?” Sapnap said, voice muffled from the door.

Dream rolled his eyes, not bothering to turn towards the entrance. “Yeah, whatever.” Dream heard the sharp footsteps on the wooden floor grow louder as Sapnap approached him. “What’s up?” Dream asked.

Sapnap chucked. “I talked to George today,” he started, leading to Dream looking up and finally being interested in the conversation. “And he told me he has  _ yet _ to be invited to the ball. Shit boyfriend move if you ask me, Dream.”

Dream’s face flushed. He had completely forgotten about the ball. He had to admit to himself, he did enjoy the casual party or two. The ball itself however had seemed to slip his mind.

“Oh,” Dream responded.

“Oh? What do you mean, oh?” Sapnap asked, and Dream shrugged. “Ya’ know, Dream, I’m sure he would like a little ‘ball-posal’ or something.”

Dream started chuckling. “Ba-ball...  _ posal _ ?” he asked between laughs.

Sapnap rolled his eyes in what was clearly mock distaste. “Whatever, dude, I would just ask him if I were you. Between you and me, he seemed rather uneasy about the entire thing.”   
  
Dream felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. He definitely had not meant to indirectly cause George any pain. 

“So,” Dream started, “Got any ‘ _ ball-posal _ ’ ideas?”

_______________________

Dream waited until 4 A.M. to wake George up.

Dream let himself study the peaceful face of the resting boy in the bed across from his before walking towards him and lightly whispering in his ear. “George,” he started, watching the brunet’s eyes flutter. “Wake up.”   
  


Dream felt his heart burst with warmth as the boy smiled lightly, rubbing his eyes. “Dream,” he began, his voice full of exhaustion, “What time is it?”

Dream flicked him lightly on the forehead. “Time for you to get up, dumbass.”

George rolled his tired eyes and Dream watched him slowly stand up and remove himself from his beige bed sheets. “Do I need to be,” he motioned at Dream’s outfit (a long and black cotton trench coat, a black turtleneck, and black slacks) “Dressed up?”

Dream shrugged, “If you want.”

Dream instinctively bit his lip as he watched George slip off his tee shirt. He tried to look away, but couldn’t seem to avert his gaze from George’s lean and slim torso.  _ Jesus _ , he thought,  _ George is gorgeous _ .

Dream felt his face flush as he caught eye contact with George.

“You’ve been staring for quite a while now, Dream. You better look away before you become absolutely obsessed with me,” George teased, now slipping on a white button down and a brown vest over that.

Dream rolled his eyes. “I was  _ not _ staring.”

He was.

Dream grabbed George lightly by the hand, carefully intertwining their fingers. Dream had to choke back a laugh as he snuck a glance at George’s face and realized it was bright red.

Dream led George through the candle-lit halls before coming up on two towering brazen doors. Dream unlatched his fingers from George’s and opened the doors for himself and George.

Immediately, they were met with rows and rows of books of every color and size. What could’ve been millions of shelves encompassed the two boys, and Dream felt his shoulders relax with relief as George gasped.

“Dream, this is-”   
  
“A library?” Dream finished jokingly.

George punched him lightly. “No, you idiot.  _ Amazing _ .”

  
Dream giggled. “You’re right, I  _ am _ amazing.”

George nudged him lightly as the two boys continued into the library. At 4 in the morning, there was no one there, employees included.

Dream took this as an opportunity to be …  _ louder _ than what would have been appreciated.

He practically screamed across the bookshelves, calling out to George every time he found a book by an author he recognized or a title he had heard in passing. George did the same.

The boys eventually settled on a wooden bench towards the back of the library. 

Dream sat and smiled at George for a moment before the dark-haired boy spoke up. He pulled out a small, new-looking novel from his pants pocket. The cover read  _ Heathers _ by John Ross Bowie. George handed it to Dream.

Dream let his fingers flip over the pages as he scoffed. “I didn’t even know they made this movie into a book.”   
  
George shrugged. Dream shuddered as he felt one of his thin hands rest on his shoulder. “Your outfit tonight reminded me of it.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Why?”   
  
George shrugged again. “Dunno’. It kinda looks like what I would expect the character JD to wear, if that makes any sense.”

Dream felt himself chuckle at this. “George,” he began, “Are you comparing me to the sadistic maniac who tried to blow up a school?”

George’s eyes widened, leading to a giggle from Dream. “No, no-” he stammered, “I just - you look-”   
  
Dream immediately grabbed George by the collar of his shirt, careful to be gentle enough not to hurt him. “Shut up, George,” Dream said. He smirked lightly as he watched George bite his lip at this. 

Before Dream could drop his hold on George’s shirt, George inched his head closer to him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Dream tightened his grip on George’s shirt collar and dragged George closer to himself. “You don’t have to ask.”

Immediately, the boys’ mouths were connected, quiet whispers of gratitude in between periods of silent embraces. 

Eventually, Dream was the first to pull away.

Dream smiled, watching George sink out of his touch with a reddened face, mussed hair, and puffy lips.

_ I did that to him _ , he thought to himself, a feeling of pride masking his anxiety in asking George the question that had been on his mind all evening.

“George,” he started, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, Dream?” George responded gingerly.

Dream gulped. “Do you want to join me at the ball? As in like, _ go with me _ ?”   
  
Dream felt a pit of confusion grow in his stomach as George’s eyes widened and his happily passion-struck facial expression dropped.

“Dream,” he started, voice sounding almost wary. “I- I can’t.  _ No _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me vs. writing semi-vague cliffhangers at the end of each chapter
> 
> a saga


	10. chapter ten: an unfamiliar perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dream,” George started, placing a hand on Dream’s shoulder comfortingly, “I would love to join you-”
> 
> Dream’s heart jumped.
> 
> “-but..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for this chapter, i wanted to try something out a little differently by adding the pov of a certain secondary character in the middle ... lmk if you guys like it, and i may do something similar with someone else in the future!

Dream gulped. “Do you want to join me at the ball? As in like, _ go with me _ ?”   
  
Dream felt a pit of confusion grow in his stomach as George’s eyes widened and his happily passion-struck facial expression dropped.

“Dream,” he started, voice sounding almost wary. “I- I can’t.  _ No _ .”

\-----------------------------

The feeling of frustration that had manifested itself in his abdomen was only growing.

“What- wha-,” Dream started, unable to audibly convey his turmoil.

George’s eyes looked sad and apologetic, as if he was regretting something. Or, perhaps, was yearning for something.

“Dream,” George started, placing a hand on Dream’s shoulder comfortingly, “I would love to join you-”

Dream’s heart jumped.

“-but,”

It fell again.

“My dad,” he started.

“Your dad?”

George nodded. “He always comes to see it. If he saw,” he motioned at the two of them, “He would never let me stay rooming with you, let alone let me continue my studies at this university in general.”

_ Oh _ .

“You can talk to me, you know,” Dream stated, placing his hand on George’s that still sat atop his shoulder.

George nodded. “I know,” he began, taking his other hand to lightly run through Dream’s hair. “I just don’t think I’m completely ready yet.”

Dream leaned into his touch and smiled empathetically. “Whenever you are,” he said softly, “I’ll be here.”

“Dream?” George whispered. 

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me,” he instructed, voice breathy.

Dream giggled. “I don’t know,” he joked, voice still quiet, “You  _ did  _ reject my invitation to the ball.”

George rolled his eyes and removed his hand from Dream’s shoulder to pull Dream’s shirt collar forward towards George, pulling Dream with it.

Dream smiled into their kiss, cupping George’s jaw with a hand and rubbing small circles with his thumb.

George pulled away so he could speak, eyes wide with adulation. “I like when you do that,” he comments, voice breathy.

Dream bit his lip in response, leaning in close to whisper in George’s ear. “Then, I guess I’ll keep doing it.”

Dream returned to kiss George, once again rubbing his jawline. Dream felt warmth blossom in his stomach as he felt George dissolve into his touch.

_______________________________

***special segment because y’all asked for more content of him...* - pov: ??? (it is ridiculously easy to decipher who, though, so do not worry - i say it later anyways)**

I walked into my disorderly yet cozy dormitory, adjusting the collar of my white shirt. It wasn’t always that I felt the motivation to dress fairly nicely, but when I did, I could admit to myself that I looked rather tantalizing.

My roommate had left at the beginning of the year, leaving me in blissful solitude for the autumn months. Yesterday, however, I was informed by Niki, the director of Student Services, that today another man was transferring in his place.

_ Well, there goes my freedom. _

I paced my dorm lightly, wanting to be there when the student arrived. As much as I hated to admit it, I was very adamant about making good first impressions. Considering I would be living with this boy for the next half a dozen months or so, this situation was no different.

“Hi!” a chipper voice said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I quickly turned towards the doorway and was met with a blonde boy grinning widely at me. He looked around 5’11 - only around a couple of inches taller than me. He was wearing a vintage-looking dark green sweater with tan slacks and brown Doc Martens.

“Oh, shit, hi!” I responded, lightly stuttering as I allowed my nervousness to get the better of me. He laughed lightly, the sound reminiscent of a mix between a cartoon character and a full-fledged chuckle.

I walked over to shake his hand, but before I could talk, he instead opted to strangle me into a tight hug. As difficult as it was to admit, considering I wasn’t usually one for such physical contact so early on in a friendship, the hug was enjoyable. For whatever reason, I felt almost  _ safe _ in this man’s arms. After a few moments I pulled away.

“Sorry,” he started, still smiling, “I just think handshakes are awkward. Might as well hug!”

I laughed in response. Jesus, this man was  _ quite  _ the character.

“I’m Sapnap,” I offered, hoping I looked as pleased as I felt.

“Karl,” the other man introduced.

I nodded. “So, Karl,” I began, motioning to the empty bed on the opposite side of the room. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”

\- - - -

“Oh my God!” 

I looked in the mirror where a bright red burn stood out plainly on my otherwise pale cheek.

“Sapnap, what the honk did you do?” I heard Karl yell.

  
I tried to giggle -  _ what the hell was “honk?”  _ \- but the pain from my stabbing wound kept me from doing so.

I pointed down to a large white candle on the desk next to the mirror.

“Did you… did you  _ burn _ yourself?” he asked, voice seemingly much too concerned considering we had only known each other for a few short hours. I nodded in response. “Oh my God, how did you  _ survive _ these past few months?”

I tried to laugh again and was once again stopped in my tracks by the sheer torment of pain.

Before I could protest, I watched as Karl held a cool and damp white cloth to my cheek. “Karl,” I started, “You really don’t need to-”

“What the  _ honk _ , Sapnap? We’re roommates now. It is legally my job to treat burns now,” Karl joked, the same grin he had when they had first met returning to his face.

I rolled my eyes despite the pain. “Specifically burns, or other injuries too?” I joke back.

At this, Karl giggles.

It almost sounds …

_ Cute? _

“Actually,” he started, “All kinds of injuries. Broken wrist, bloody nose-”

“Paper cuts?” I interject.

“No, actually, my  _ skill _ is just too advanced for measly  _ paper cuts _ ,” he teases, leaving me to jokingly elbow him on the ribs. “Woah woah there, Sapnap. I  _ am _ the one holding this cloth to your face. I can take it away too,” he retorts with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

-

After around twenty minutes or so, the initial tenderness of the wound is gone, leaving a rather conspicuous mark in its place.

“Oh my God, Sapnap,” Karl starts, poking at my cheek only centimeters away from the wound. It seemed like he was being careful to avoid it, however. “You’re going to have a wicked cool scar.”

I laugh lightly. “Yeah, I guess so. Pretty noticeable though, considering it is on arguably the most obvious part of my face.”

Karl rolls his eyes at this. “Whatever. I think it’s cool. You never know, fire could be your new thing!”

Something about his optimism sends a blossoming sensation through my chest. “My new thing?”

Karl nods. “Yeah! Like, when people see you, they’ll be like ‘What the honk! That’s Sapnap! The guy who got a burn from that huge fire! Wow! He is so hot and cool!’” Karl and I were now full-on wheezing.

I decide to joke back. “Oh, so you think I’m hot and cool?” Karl’s grin somehow grows wider.

“Maybe I do,” he says smugly back, laughs escaping both of our throats.

I hit him playfully on the cheek. “Ow!” he responds, being clearly over dramatic.

“Karl?”

The blonde boy nods, urging me to continue.

“Do you think you could press the thing on my face again? It really helped.”

Karl smiled in response, reaching for the cloth and lightly dabbing it onto my face.   
  


“Is that okay?” he asks softly, and I am suddenly aware of just how close we are.

So close.

_______________________________

***back to normal narration***

Dream gingerly walked to Sapnap’s apartment, both eager yet reluctant to share the results of his ‘ _ ball-posal. _ ’ 

As he approached the door, he noticed it was closed. Usually, Sapnap’s door was left slightly ajar, but Dream paid it little mind. Sapnap had always said Dream could come in as he liked; the only times he shouldn’t, Sapnap said he would lock the door anyway.

Dream opened the door slowly and felt his eyes widen.

Before him sat Sapnap and an unknown blonde boy on the bed that Dream had remembered to be empty, the blonde pressing a cloth onto his face with one hand and running his hands through Sapnap’s hair with the other.

“Sapnap? What the hell?” Dream exclaimed instinctively, instantly regretting being so loud as the two boys jumped and pulled away.

“D-Dream?” Sapnap responded, face growing red with what Dream could assume was embarrassment. If Dream was a different man, one who couldn’t hide their emotions, he might almost laugh at the irony of the situation. Sapnap had walked in on him and George in an almost identical manner.

“Who’s this?” Dream says, fighting back a giggle from escaping his lips. As Dream takes in more of the area, he notices suitcases on the floor.  _ He must be a new roommate _ . 

“Karl,” the blonde boy supplies, smiling warily. 

“-My… uh, new roommate,” Sapnap added.

Upon Sapnap talking, Dream noticed a fairly obvious burn mark on his cheek. “Oh my God, Sapnap, what happened to your cheek?” Dream exclaimed, rushing to inspect his friend’s injury.

“I was being stupid with candles, it’s no big deal. Luckily Karl was here to help me.”

“Looked like he was doing more than just  _ helping _ you,” Dream muttered under his breath so only Sapnap could hear it, leading to an aggressive elbow to his ribs.

Dream turned to Karl and inspected the boy. He was fidgeting around with his hands, clearly embarrassed at the entire situation. In a way, he almost reminded Dream vaguely of George. George was never the most confident with new people. New people besides Dream, that is. “Hi, Karl, I’m Dream.” Dream stuck out a hand and Karl vigorously shook it.

“You said you didn’t  _ do _ handshakes, Karl. You said you wanted a hug from me instead,” Sapnap pointed out, a brow raised.

Dream looked back to Karl and watched as his face turned crimson. “I- uh, you-” he stammered.

“Jesus,” Dream started, “Considering you guys have only known each other for less than a day, you’re flustered like a bunch of idiots.” Dream allowed himself to wheeze lightly.

“Shut up, Dream!” Sapnap said, playfully slapping him on the head, although Dream could tell he was biting back a grin. “Why are you here anyways?”

“George,” Dream answered rather quietly compared to his previous jokes.

“Oooh,” Karl says, sing-songy, “Who’s  _ George _ ?”

“His boyfriend,” Sapnap answers, leading Karl to widen his eyes and nod with something that seemed like  _ ‘Oh, respect.’ _

“We’re not dating,” Dream interjected, feeling as if this correction was almost a daily occurrence.

“Dream makes out with everyone he isn’t dating in the library at 4AM, apparently.”

Dream felt his mouth go agape. “How did you- what?”

Sapnap giggled a bit. “ _ Now _ , who’s the flustered idiot?” Sapnap laughed more before continuing. “George has been giving me all of the insider information.”

“So you know he…”

“ _ Rejected you _ ?” Sapnap finished. “Yeah, I know. But to be fair, the whole time he was gushing about how sad he was you guys couldn’t go together.”

Dream’s heart seemed to ease at this. 

“Where is this infamous ‘George?’” Karl asked, smiling lightly. Dream could admit, this ‘Karl’ guy was pretty entertaining.

“Probably writing love poems to Dream again,” Dream heard Sapnap mutter, so quiet he could’ve only meant for himself to hear it.

“L-love poems?” Dream exclaimed, eyes wide.

Sapnap seemed to grimace at himself for this. “Oh- did he not show- shit.”

Dream felt the fluttery feeling he had felt when George melted into his touch in the library return.

_ Love poems. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed hehe :)
> 
> sapnap and karl content >:) muahahahha


	11. chapter 11: verbal euphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in days, things felt good. Things felt open. Things felt euphoric.
> 
> Dream had George, and that was all that mattered to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of updates.
> 
> GOD school has kept me busy.
> 
> small tw for mentions of a death!

The subtle flex of a pale collarbone. 

The light musk of vanilla.

The soft tuft of brown hair.

These were the things that encapsulated Dream’s thoughts.

_George_.

Dream could not shake the words of Sapnap from his mind.

_“Probably writing love poems to Dream again,”_

It had been around four days since Dream and George had experienced their true selves in the library. Dream wished to see George, to _feel_ him. He wanted to be surrounded only by George. He wanted to live through him.

It felt as if George was almost being avoidant. Every time Dream tried to spark conversation, or hold hands, or even smile at the brunet, he was met with the same dismissive response.

As he and George were facing their own issues, Dream noticed Sapnap had been considerably more peppy and optimistic. He seemed to be getting along with his roommate, Karl, fairly well. Dream would regularly walk in on the two boys giggling to each other like complete idiots.

Dream wondered if this was how others saw him and George.

_________

It had been 7 days since the library situation.

One week until the ball.

Dream talked to Sapnap, who said he was experiencing the same standoffish behavior from George. It felt as if, whenever something was going right for him and George, an invisible barrier was placed between the boys that they had to break through once again.

Dream purposefully stayed up late, knowing George would be lost in thought.

Dream turned to his left, seeing the man staring up at the ceiling on the bed across from him.

“ _Psst_ … George!” Dream whispered. George turned to him and rolled his eyes, but Dream could sense the beginning of a smile forming on his lips.

“Oh Geoooorge,” Dream continued, his voice now soft and sing-songy. Dream continued calling out for the Brit until he heard him giggle.

“Oh my God, Dream, please, let me sleep,” George said, voice sounding almost apologetic.

“George, what’s going on?” Dream asked, whispering once more. Dream sat up as he watched George stand up from his dorm bed and walk over to Dream’s. Dream scooted to the left, making space for George. Dream shivered at the touch when George collapsed his head into Dream’s chest. Instinctively, Dream felt himself lightly playing with George’s hair. Dream could feel George lean into his touch.

“Promise me you won’t hate me?” George asked, voice muffled from being pressed up against Dream.

Dream scoffed light heartedly. “I could never hate you, Georgie.”

Dream felt his heart fall lightly, but dismissed it, as George pulled away to look at him.

“My father wants me to have a date to the danse,” George said, voice shaking.

Dream felt a grin spread across his face. “Oh my God, George, that’s great news! We can go after all!”

Dream’s face fell as he watched George’s gaze harden as he shook his head. “No, Dream. He wants me to go with a _girl_.”

Dream bit his lip, suddenly stuck in thought. “You’re not going to… _right_?” Dream asked, voice filled with more insecurity than he had hoped.

George nudged him lightly in response. “God, no, _Jesus_.”

_Thank God._

“I’m sorry I’ve been so standoffish, I’ve just been lost in thought. I am just going to tell him, I think.”

Dream felt his eyes widen. “George, are you sure-”

“-Yes,” George finished for him. “I won’t tell him about _us_ , at least just yet. I want to be open with him about… _me_ , though.”

Dream nodded. He guided George’s head towards his chest as it was a few moments previous. “I’m so proud of you, Georgie.”

Dream felt his heart flutter as he felt George giggle into his shirt. 

“Do you remember, the first day of the university, you asked me some questions?”  
  


George pulled away, seemingly to look at him. George nodded and Dream took this as his cue to continue.

“-And you asked ‘ _What is something you didn’t tell someone, but really wish you did_ ?’, and I responded that I wish I told my ex ‘ _I love you’_?”

George nodded again.

“I’d like to tell you about her,” Dream started. “I think you would’ve liked her, a lot, actually.”

Dream smiled as George leaned his head onto his shoulder. “ _Her_?” George asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, Georgie, I’m so hot, I have _two_ genders pining for me,” Dream joked back, leading to a playful elbow in the ribs from George who was still leaning against his shoulder.

“Her name was Arya.”

“Cool name.”

“Yeah, cool name,” Dream agreed, continuing. “We were together for probably almost six months. She was kind, like you. She was funny, too.”

“As funny as me?” George asked jokingly.

“A close second,” Dream started, beginning once again after George giggled lightly in response. “She was _perfect_. I loved her, a lot. I never told her though.”

“Why not?”  
  


Dream shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I assumed I just had more _time_.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”

Dream shook his head solemnly. “Sudden arrhythmic death syndrome. Died after experiencing cardiac arrest,” he said, his voice unnaturally deadpanned. This explanation was almost rehearsed into his brain after having to explain the situation to friends and family what felt like dozens of times.

George exhaled sharply. “Oh my God, Dream, I’m so sorry, Jesus Christ. Now I feel like a dick.”

“It’s okay, George. She would’ve loved you, by the way.”

George smiled, although it was clearly forced due to the bleakness of the conversation. “Would she?”

Dream nodded. “She always said I needed to be more myself. I’m the most myself around you I’ve _ever_ been. I’m sure Arya is looking down and smiling thinking, ‘Jesus, this British guy is _actually_ making Dream happy.’”

George giggled. Dream melted into the touch as George placed a soft hand on his jawbone. “Arya would be proud of you.”

George pulled away to revert back to his place on Dream’s chest.

“George?” Dream asked softly.

“Yeah?” he asked, voice muffled.

“I am not going to regret not doing this like I did with Arya.”

There was a comfortable silence between the two.

“ _Plato_ , I love you,” Dream said, so breathlessly he wasn’t sure if it truly came out. George flinched away from Dream’s chest. Before Dream could feel what he expected to be shame, George leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you too, _Diogenes_. _God_ , I love you.”

Their nicknames, reserved only for the two. It was as if their love was cemented in century-old writing; as if it was _fate_.

Dream sealed their verbal promises with a kiss. 

For the first time in days, things felt good. Things felt open. Things felt euphoric.

Dream had George, and that was all that mattered to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bi dream is cannon in this story B)
> 
> hoping to update a little more, sorry for the wait!
> 
> as always, comments, criticism, and kudos are always appreciated! ily <3


	12. chapter 12: romeo and juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
> 
> It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
> 
> Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
> 
> 5Who is already sick and pale with grief,
> 
> That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.
> 
> Be not her maid since she is envious.

The boys walked into their Shakespearean Literature class practically on top of each other. Dream couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the smug expression plastered on Wilbur’s face.

“George!” Wilbur called out, smirk still incredibly visible.

Turning to George, Dream could see a look of surprise on his face. “Wilbur?” he asked, voice cracking through his British accent. This adorably awkward flaw let Dream giggle softly, leading to a light elbow from George.

“This bloke finally asked you out, ‘eh?” Wilbur asked, pointing to Dream.

George’s eyes widened.

“What the hell, Wilbur?” Dream exclaimed.

“How did you… did he-?” George started, audible apprehension in his voice.

Wilbur chuckled lightly. “Jesus, George, he’s been fawning over you all year. You’ve just been hilariously oblivious.”

Dream rolled his eyes and sat as George intertwined their fingers. 

_ I could get used to this domesticity _ , Dream thought to himself. George was tightening his grip every time Dream accidentally pulled away.

Professor Edwardes cleared his throat as he entered the classroom. “Hello, class. Today, we will be focusing on the infamous ‘love’ story, or lack thereof, of  _ Romeo and Juliet _ .”

Dream couldn’t help but notice the murmurs of excitement from his fellow classmates. 

“As you all know, I am nothing if not a sucker for forcing you all to stay motivated and interact with each other. So, I will be assigning you all partners - mandatory, by the way - and giving you two a scene to act out. Consider this my…  _ artistic vision _ .” 

At the mention of assigned group mates, the class, including Dream and George, seemed to groan. 

Edwardes began distributing scenes until he came up upon Dream and George. “I expect you, George and Dream, to work together on Act 2, Scene 2.”

_ The balcony scene. Of course. _

Dream felt himself grinning to the professor, who only gave him a thumbs up in response. It looked as if Dream and George were not the best at being inconspicuous. 

__________________

The boys sat in the foyer of the small nook they had worked together in before, thighs brushing and cheeks red. 

“Do you want to… practice?” Dream offered, unusually nervous. At this point, he and George had been intimate with each other countless times. And yet, every time he was in the boy’s presence, his thoughts were clouded by his kindness, beauty, and divine nature.

George nodded, and the boys stood.

“I’m doing Romeo.” Dream insisted.

George put a finger up to protest. “No way, I am  _ not _ being Juliet.”

Dream smirked, an idea forming into his head. He moved forward, forcing George to lean his back onto the wall. Almost a head taller than George, he practically towered over him. A rush of excitement passed over his body as he noticed how ruddy George’s face was and how his lip was being held in by his teeth. 

“You sure you’re not being Juliet?”

George’s lip seemed to quiver through his teeth. “N-no.”

“Say you’re sure.”

“Make me.”

Dream smirked. “Gladly.”

Immediately, their lips nearly crashed together. Dream’s arms were on either side of George’s face, keeping him pinned against the wall. After what felt like decades of intimacy, George laughed sheepishly.

“Fine… I’ll be stupid  _ Juliet _ .”

________________________

It was now the next day, and the boys were cued up to perform their scene.

The groups earlier were laughably monotone, lines being delivered as if they were being forced to recite them at gunpoint. 

Eventually, after anxious waiting, it was their turn.

\- - - - -

_ But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? _

  
  


George looked beautiful, smiling at him, in that damned east tower.

  
  


_ It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. _

  
  
  
  


His piercing brown eyes were gazing intently at Dream.

  
  


_ Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, _

  
  
  


George was looking at him as if he was  _ worth  _ something.

  
  
  


_ Who is already sick and pale with grief, _

  
  
  


As if Dream deserved his attention.

  
  


_ That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. _

  
  
  


As if he loved him.

  
  


_ Be not her maid since she is envious. _

  
  
  


And he said he  _ did _ .

\- - - - -

George smiled and began to speak.

\- - - - -

_ O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? _

  
  


George was beautiful when he spoke.

  
  


_ Deny thy father and refuse thy name. _

  
  


It was as if the entire world quieted to hear his words.

  
  


_ Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, _

  
  


He deserved for everyone to listen to him.

  
  


_ And I’ll no longer be a Capulet. _

  
  


He was beautiful.

\- - - - -

Class eventually ended, however their performance was easily the best. 

The boys returned to their dorm, both clearly visibly content with themselves, fingers intertwined.

_____________________________

Dream woke up to George sitting on the window seat with the soft moonlight illuminating his sharp features.

This situation seemed to be a pattern at this point.

Dream quietly got up from his bed and sat next to him, placing a hand instinctively through George’s hair and playing with it. Dream looked to George’s lap and saw a stained and tattered copy of  _ Romeo and Juliet _ sitting there.

“I’ve been reading, you know,” George said abruptly.

Dream chuckled softly. “Really? Couldn’t tell.”

George rolled his eyes light heartedly in response. 

“I have an idea, Dream.”

Dream seemed to feel himself perk up at this. He motioned for George to continue.

“In  _ Romeo and Juliet _ , they are in a masquerade ball of sorts when they meet. As in, they have  _ disguises. _ ”

“Go on…”

“What if, at the ball, we use some sort of disguise? That way, my father won’t know it’s us.”   
  


Dream felt himself grin at this. “So this means…”

“We can go together.”

Dream sealed his idea with a kiss.

They were going to the ball together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gotta love some shakespeare allusions AHAHAH


	13. chapter 13: a deep blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re beautiful, Plato,” Dream said, the mood moving from fun-loving to sincere very quickly.
> 
> George turned to face him. “No more beautiful than you, Diogenes.”
> 
> Dream sealed the envelope of George’s eloquent words with a kiss.

George’s gaze was freezing, as if dark icicles swarmed in his brown eyes.

After the ball, the students had a week of winter vacation. According to the head of student services, Niki, the ball was a “last hurrah,” of sorts before the turning of semesters.

Dream would be lying if he wasn’t the smallest bit nervous to return home. Returning to his home meant returning to the self-righteous bigots of his family. Dream had chosen such a far-off university to escape them, and now, months later, he would be forced to meet with them once again.

Dream attempted to push that thought off to the side - all of his anxiety should be focused on the immediate situation: the ball.

Dream was actually rather excited. Wearing a disguise didn’t mind him; in fact, he was quite enthusiastic at the thought of being able to pick out costume pieces.

Because the two boys needed to shop, Dream opted to join George when he left for one of his shifts working at the small store they had met in so many long months ago.

George showed him the way to their accessory pieces, a smile gracing his face. Dream was instantly transported back to their initial meeting. Even then, he could sense something special… something  _ particular _ about George.

“This time, you aren’t leaving water tracks on the floor, so that’s a plus,” George said, knocking Dream out of his mind-born fantasies. 

Dream scoffed dramatically in response. “Sorry, I was a little flustered at the time. There was a really  _ hot _ store clerk that had more of my attention than my wet hair,” Dream chided, trying (and succeeding) to make George blush.

George rolled his eyes, however the ruddiness of his cheeks and ears satisfied Dream well enough.

The boys sifted through the accessories before George spoke up once again.

“It’s most important for you to have a more concealing disguise,” he started, “because if my dad finds out about who  _ you _ are, we’ll never have a shot at…” His voice trailed off.

“...at?” Dream prompted.

“At being us.”

Dream nodded as he browsed more and more, finally coming up with something he deemed wearable.

It was a porcelain, disk-shaped mask. There were eye holes, however they were nearly invisible from the outside. It looked like something out of a film, or perhaps a video game.

George raised his eyebrows approvingly. “Looks good,” he said with a smile, now motioning at a pair of thin-white-rimmed glasses. “How about these for me?”

Dream chuckled. “They’re practically sunglasses, George. He’s going to recognize you.”

George rolled his eyes. “He’ll probably recognize me  _ anyways _ , Dream. I’m his son after all, so this is just formality and extra precaution. You’re the real giveaway.”

Dream nodded and took the glasses out from the shelf, placing them lightly on George’s face. They were obviously too big for him, but it made him appear almost  _ cute. _

George seemed to follow suit and took the mask from Dream, latching it onto his face snugly.

“You look pretty, George,” Dream said, smiling underneath his mask.

“It’s such a shame this mask hides how pretty  _ you  _ are, Dream,” George started, giggling. “If you weren’t wearing a mask right now, I could almost  _ kiss _ you.”

Dream smirked under the porcelain and brought his hand up to push the mask up just enough so his mouth was visible. 

“How about now?”

Immediately, George leaned in and pressed their lips together.

_________________________________

“What kind of suit were you thinking?” George asked, voice slightly muffled because he was turned away from Dream as he looked through his closet.

“I’m not sure,” Dream said truthfully. “Maybe something blue, Mr. Colorblind.”

George giggled as he turned towards him. “You’re such an idiot,” he said, with absolutely no malice in his voice.

“You love me though,” Dream offered, grinning wildly.

George rolled his eyes but the blush creeping in on his face revealed his true opinions.

“Did you ever talk to your dad?” Dream asked, suddenly feeling a shift in the conversation as George’s smile quickly dropped.

“I’m getting to it. Eventually.” 

Dream nodded- he would never force George to do anything, especially not to the dick of a father Dream had heard so much about.

“I was thinking, though…” George started. “What if we consider ourselves boyfriends? Just so, when people walk into us making out in the library, they won’t think I’m a total whore.”

Dream practically jumped at the sudden offer. “What’s wrong with being a whore, George?” he asked, smugly, a smirk plastered over his face.

“Fuck off, Dream,” George said, giggling and cheeks red. “Just answer my question, dipshit.”

“I didn’t hear a question, actually,” Dream chided, hoping to convince George to say the magic words.

“I’m not one for pleasantries, Dream.”

“I am,” Dream retorted, grinning wildly.

“Fine,” George said, rolling his eyes light-heartedly. “ _ Will you be my boyfriend, Dream? _ ”

Dream smiled. “I’m not sure… maybe kiss me, and then I’ll decide.”

“You’re such an idiot,” George muttered, however he kissed Dream all the same. “Now answer. I won’t kiss your stupid-ass face until you do.”

“Yes, George, I would  _ love _ to be your boyfriend,” Dream said, practically glowing.

“Okay…  _ boyfriend _ .” George said, clearly trying to test out the word on his mouth. He smiled, suggesting he liked it. 

“Boyfriend,” Dream repeated, moving closer to George.

“Can my  _ boyfriend _ kiss me now? I’m getting bored,” George said, however his deep smile suggested quite the opposite.

“Fine,” Dream started, leaning in. “I fucking hate you,” he muttered as he smiled into the kiss.

______________________________________________

George and Dream found themselves once again in a shop, however this time, it was not the one George worked at. Instead, it was a lavishly over-expensive store specifically for formal attire.

Dream and George wandered through the aisles until Dream walked up to George eyeing a rather tantalizing looking deep blue dress.

Immediately, presumably upon realizing Dream was there, George jerked away. 

“Do you want to try this on?” Dream offered, carefully taking the hanger with the dress off of the rack.

“N-no, it’s okay, it’s not really my-”

Dream interrupted him with a soft finger to his lips. “Shut up, George. You’d look hot. Just try it on.”

At this, George’s shoulders seemed to relax. Dream and George eventually found several suits for them to try on, along with the infamous blue dress. 

Dream walked out of the dressing room in a lime-green suit, with a white shirt half buttoned up beneath it. 

He felt a rush of pride as George stared at him, face a blazing red.

“You… look…  _ wow _ ,” George exclaimed, eyes practically glued on him.

Dream scratched the back of his head, a smirk glued to his face. “Wow, huh?”

“Hot.” 

Dream’s eyes widened. “Hot, huh?” George nodded. “Do you want to put on the dress now?”

George smiled and walked into the dressing room.

After a couple minutes of waiting, George walked out.

This time, it was Dream’s turn to be furiously blushing.

A seamless satin dark blue dress was draped over his thin figure, hugging him perfectly. He looked absolutely stunning.

“George,” Dream started, voice almost breathless. “You look so…  _ sexy _ .”

Immediately, George’s face flushed. The redness of his cheeks only complemented the outfit more. Dream intertwined their fingers and walked to a mirror, admiring the two together.

“We are one good-looking couple,” George commented giggling.

“You’re beautiful, Plato,” Dream said, the mood moving from fun-loving to sincere very quickly.

George turned to face him. “No more beautiful than you, Diogenes.”

Dream sealed the envelope of George’s eloquent words with a kiss.

____________________

The boys returned home from their dormitory; much to Dream’s dismay, George had decided he could not wear the dress to the ball due to his overbearing father. He instead chose a blue suit, however in an act of financial irresponsibility, George opted to buy the dress as well for more recreational endeavors.

Dream and George returned to their dormitory, giddy with love and attraction.

Every passing touch, every small whisper, every light tug encompassed Dream like a thick coating of honey.

Moments of silence with George felt like eternities. If George was the moon, he was the sun. Whenever Dream was happy, his brightness shone on George too. Their independence was like beautiful fire through Dream’s veins.

He loved George.

He loved his Plato.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we have fanart :DDD (AAA THANK YOU FOR THE FANART ILY - it is the same artist as always, however they like staying anonymous. just know i love u!!!)
> 
> did i write this part because i wanted an excuse to write george in a dress? no comment.
> 
> hope u enjoyed!
> 
> also...
> 
> BOYFRIENDS!!!!!


	14. chapter 14: the ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George's navy blue suit fit him snugly. His face was ruddy, whether from amour or anxiety, Dream was unsure. His white glasses rested on his defined nose bridge, a wide grin on his face.
> 
> “Hey,” Dream replied quietly, smiling under his mask.
> 
> “I wish I could see your face,” George whispered into his ear, leaving Dream to blush and bite his lip. Thank God his face was covered.
> 
> “I know,” Dream started, intertwining the boys’ hands. “But, at least we have something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i suggest listening to this on loop while reading:
> 
> https://youtu.be/Al6EZm6Bf3c
> 
> really adds to the vibe! hope u enjoy!

Dream paced his dormitory nervously, waiting for his friend to show up.

His anxieties were somewhat calmed when he heard a familiar voice boom through the doorway. 

“Dream, man! Are you good?” Sapnap exclaimed, rushing towards him. Sapnap was wearing a white suit with black and orange accents, so Dream took this as a sign that he was already ready to go to the ball.

Dream shook his head. “I  _ really _ need to look good for George. Please, Sap, help me get ready.”

  
Sapnap rolled his eyes but agreed anyway.

Sapnap helped Dream get dressed into his suit. As he was coiffing his hair, Sapnap perked up. Dream motioned for him to speak.

“If you’re in your dorm, then where is George?” Sapnap asked.

“He’s with Karl, I think. He said they’re getting each other ready.”

Sapnap’s eyes widened. 

_ Oh, right _ .

“Are you going with…” Dream started, not wanting to overstep any boundaries.

Sapnap nodded. “Yeah, he asked me like a week ago if I wanted to go with him,” he stated, a grin growing on his face.

“What the hell, dude!” Dream exclaimed, smiling and playfully elbowing Sapnap. “You should’ve told me!”

Sapnap rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I know, I just didn’t want to say anything until I knew Karl was comfortable with it.”

Dream placed a supportive hand on his friend’s back. “Gotcha, brother. But still, congrats.”

Dream finished perfecting his outfit and hair. His hair was messily wavy, looking almost effortless. Dream latched on the mask, seeing how he looked with it for later. He could admit, he looked good.

“Wait! Before you go,” Sapnap started, pulling out a Sharpie permanent marker. “Please, for the love of God, draw  _ something  _ on that mask. It’s so bland.”

Dream took off his mask and contemplated before he began to draw.

He drew a messily adorable black, wide smiley face on the mask.

_ Perfect. _

George and Dream had promised each other they were going to meet  _ at _ the ballroom, so that way they only had to wear their disguises once they were there and didn’t have to worry about George’s father catching them together beforehand.

Dream walked down the hallways towards the ballroom, elbow linked with Sapnap. At the time they had known each other at the university, Sapnap and Dream had clicked instantly. By now, their bond was nothing short of brotherhood. Even after knowing Sapnap for only a few short months, Dream trusted Sapnap with almost anything. 

The boys stopped when they reached the tall double doors of the ballroom. Before anyone could see him, Dream pulled out the porcelain mask and latched it on.

Two doormen, wearing red and gold dress shirts and slacks, began turning the door handles, allowing the boys to enter.

The boys were met with a flood of orchestral music and light.    
  
Dream instinctively stepped back and took in the experience that was the ballroom.

Affluent-looking students danced around, each wearing wildly eccentric gowns and suits. There was an almost full symphony, flutes singing and cellos blaring. Heavyset chandeliers hung from thin wires on the ceiling, encompassing the room with a warm and comfortable white light. The shine of the quartz floors was just enough where the viewer could make out a low resolution reflection of themselves. The gold accents of the colossal room further pushed the motif of royalty on the atmosphere.

Dream, clearly, felt out of place.

There he was, standing in a lime green suit with a white smiley face mask on. Needless to say, there were dozens of eyes on him. Dream shifted uncomfortably until he heard a familiar voice.

“Dream!” it said quietly, pulling him out of his nervous fantasies.

Dream turned to George and took in the man’s utter beauty.

His navy blue suit fit him snugly. His face was ruddy, whether from amour or anxiety, Dream was unsure. His white glasses rested on his defined nose bridge, a wide grin on his face.

“Hey,” Dream replied quietly, smiling under his mask.

“I wish I could see your face,” George whispered into his ear, leaving Dream to blush and bite his lip.  _ Thank God his face was covered _ .

“I know,” Dream started, intertwining the boys’ hands. “But, at least we have something.”   
  
George nodded and practically dragged Dream towards where their friends were. 

“Hey, Dream!” Karl called out, practically  _ on top _ of Sapnap’s lap as the boys sat together. Dream raised his hand to wave in response, smiling, although no one could tell.

“Keep it on the down low, Karl, though,” Dream started, pointing to his mask. “For safety reasons.” Karl nodded and hit him with a thumbs up.

Dream took in the other members of the ball.

On one side stood a group of younger-looking students; Dream was unsure if they were even  _ old enough _ to be at University in general. One was wearing a half-black, half-white suit, with a green and red tie. Another was wearing a white dress shirt with red sleeves, and the final was wearing a moss-green outfit. Dream shrugged them off, eager to focus his attention on George.

He absentmindedly slipped his hand into the brunet’s, who looked up at him with a wide smile.

“Do you want to maybe dance, Dream?” George asked, glasses covering what Dream would assume would be wide and glassy eyes.

Dream nodded. “After you, Sir,” he said jokingly formally, bowing to the man in front of him.

George scoffed but led him towards where people were dancing anyways. 

Dream slowly let his hands rest on George’s thin waist as George wrapped his hands around Dream’s neck.

The opening notes of “Le Cygne,” by Camille Saint-Saens flooded the ballroom.

Bright melodies hummed out of the violins and cellos, covering the ballroom in an atmosphere of warmth and honey.

Dream leaned in, guiding George’s movements ever so slightly so they were following a cohesive rhythm.

The men danced and danced, focused more on the face of the other than the movements themselves.

Dream felt himself lost in the dark pools of rose that had manifested themselves on George’s cheeks. He was beautiful.

Dream couldn’t help but think of the parallels between this and the night they had first kissed. George had been so meek; he practically blushed at every word Dream said.  _ He still does,  _ Dream reminded himself.

Dream felt himself instinctively move closer to the other man.

Although the music was still booming, George and Dream had found themselves no longer dancing. They were simply experiencing the other. 

Dream felt George lean his forehead on his own. He was thankful the mask did not cover his entire forehead at this moment, grateful to feel the touch of George.

“Dream,” George whispered, the melodies of the orchestra encircling the two boys.

  
  


“Yeah?” Dream asked back, breathily.

  
  
  


“I want to kiss you. So bad.”

At this, Dream felt his breath hitch.

  
  


He wanted to kiss George.

  
  
  


At this moment, he didn’t care for the consequences that may stem from it.

  
  
  


Dream pulled away slowly, and moved his mask up so only his mouth was visible. The rest of his face was still covered, however.

  
  
  


“Then do it,” Dream stated.

  
  
  


With this, George practically lunged forward, connecting their lips.

  
Dream knew there were definitely people watching them, but he didn’t care. The only person worth his attention at this moment was the man who was currently interlocking their lips.

Dream moved his hands up from George’s waist to hold his jaw up facing him.

  
  


“I love you, Plato,” he whispered, smiling out of their kiss.

  
  


“I love you, Diogenes.”

  
  


With this, the boys both pulled away. Dream fastened his mask back to its original position and took sight of a ruddy George with mussed hair.

_ He looks like that because of me _ .

With that, a loud booming presence overtook the boys.

Dream looked up to see an older-looking gentleman standing before them. He was considerably shorter than Dream, almost George’s height. His hair was greying, but not grey, and he was wearing a brown suit and waistcoat.

A moment of realization kicked in and Dream inhaled sharply. He recognized this man.

_ Kipp David _ .

_ George’s dad. _

“D-dad?” Dream heard George stutter out, shifting slightly away from Dream.

“What the hell is this?” David asked, practically snarling at Dream.

It seemed as if the universe was out to get him when Sapnap walked over to the boys and slung an arm around Dream, cup of some sort of drink in hand.

“Hey George,  _ Dream _ , who’s this?” he asked, motioning towards David.

_ Fuck _ . So much for the disguises.

Dream watched George take his glasses off, eyes wide.

“ _ Dream?  _ Is this your roommate, George?” David exclaimed.

George didn’t have to answer.

“Fuck almighty, if I was aware you were doing such … things with your roommate, I would’ve have had you removed immediately. George,” he started, grabbing Dream’s boyfriend by the wrist, “You will be transferred immediately.”

“Dad, please,” Dream heard George mutter out, but it was too late.

George had already disappeared through the crowd of people, his blue suit lost in the sea of colors standing before Dream.

“Holy shit, what just happened?” Sapnap asked, voice shaky and clearly confused.

Dream quickly explained it to him, and watched as Sapnap’s confusion turned to guilt.

“Oh my God, Dream. I am so, so, sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s whatever, Sapnap. He was bound to find out eventually.”

Dream wanted to run.

He wanted to steal George’s father’s grip on George’s wrist and lead George to salvation himself. He wanted to be with his boyfriend.

Now, he was unsure if he would ever have that pleasure again.

  
  


Dream sighed sharply when he realized he had George’s phone number saved in his phone.

  
  


Without a goodbye, Dream practically ran out of the ballroom, bumping into unsuspecting guests and ignoring it on the way.

  
  


He sprinted through the hallways, finally arriving at his dorm.

  
  


Upon getting there, he sifted through his items quickly before he found his phone.

  
  


_ One New Notification _

Dream clicked on it.

  
  


_ George: i’m sorry _

  
  


Dream felt his breath hitch in his throat.

  
  


_ Dream: don’t be sorry _

_ what are you even sorry for _

  
  
  
  
  


_ George: for this _

  
  


Attached was a photo.

  
  


Dream hesitantly hit the “open image” button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe plot twist hehe
> 
> also felt like i had to include that lil ranboo, tommy, tubbo easter egg. i wonder what pranks they were pulling on the ball guests hm
> 
> ALSO - for all you school au fans... i may or may not be planning a skaterboy!dream high school au... hehehheh keep an eye out


	15. chapter 15: deny thy father and refuse thy name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had George. George was still there.
> 
> He was just bitterly far away.
> 
> What started as tears became anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> usually updates take longer but i speedran this and wrote it in one setting - inspiration just struck ig ahhahah

_ A plane ticket. _

  
  


It was a picture of  _ a plane ticket. _

The text on the ticket read:

_ George David _

_ Flight from London, England to Cardiff, Wales. _

Dream couldn’t help but feel his brain clouded by uncertainty- out of all places, why was George’s father taking him to  _ Wales? _

  
  


The answer hit him like a truck.

  
  


There was a separate branch of their university in Cardiff.

  
  


George would be gone.

  
  


_ For good _ .

  
  


Dream absentmindedly wiped his eyes, unaware he was crying. After this, the tears fell out in pools. Dream was well aware of his love for George, and the burning sensation that George reciprocated his feelings pained his chest. He had never felt so deeply for anyone. Perhaps, not even for his ex-girlfriend, Arya.

He felt the same stinging guilt and regret as when he had first come to terms with her death. It wasn’t as numbing, however; when he had lost Arya, it was sudden, and he knew he would never get her back.

For George, however, it almost felt cruel.

He  _ had _ George. George was still  _ there _ .

He was just bitterly far away.

What started as tears became anger.

Anger at Sapnap for revealing who he was, anger at George’s father for starting this entire situation, and finally and most prominently, anger at himself.

Dream could have simply  _ not _ lost George.

He could’ve pried George’s father’s grip from George’s wrist and ran away with the boy.

Yet, he was too  _ scared _ . Too  _ hesitant. _ Dream was pathetic.

Through the sounds of Dream’s shallow breathing, he had not heard Sapnap quietly enter his dormitory. Sapnap made Dream aware of his presence by offering a consoling hand on Dream’s shoulder.

This only made Dream cry more.

Dream felt a cold air arise in his chest. Tomorrow, the students would be leaving for winter vacation.

This would mean that, tonight, Dream would have to face sleeping in his dormitory alone. He would have to spend the night without George. 

\- - - - - - - - -

Sapnap had offered to sleep in George’s bed to keep Dream company, but he profusely refused.

That bed was  _ George’s _ and no one else’s.

_ He’ll be back,  _ Dream promised himself, however even he knew he was spitting lies to himself. It only made him feel more poignant knowing his hope was unfounded.

Dream laid with his head towards the ceiling on his bed, eerily aware of the emptiness of George’s bed. It was still somewhat undone, and Dream couldn’t get himself to fix or strip the covers.

Leaving it as it felt like he was leaving a part of George there.

Dream called George, praying that his call would go through and that George wasn’t currently on a plane.

The line, when he called it, however, immediately dropped as a robotic voice filled Dream’s ears.

_ “Unfortunately, the caller you are trying to contact has your number on a blocklist. If you think this is a mistake, please contact the caller and try again.” _

_ What the fuck _ .

Dream knew George would never block him out of his own volition.

  
  
  
  
  


_...Would he? _

  
  
  
  


_ No. _

  
  


Dream reminded himself that it was almost definitely the work of his father, forcing him to break contact with him.

All Dream wanted to do in that moment was hear George’s voice; hear the smooth whispers of him saying that it would all be okay.

That was, however, no longer possible.

Dream knew that night he would not be getting any sleep.

____________

Dream arose at almost 5 am, back sore from a lack of consistent and deep sleep.

His eyes still felt heavy, suggesting he had never even made it to REM.

Dream quickly gathered his luggage he had previously packed to go home and got dressed. He didn’t bother dressing nicely and instead opted to wear a sage green oversized hoodie and tan cargo pants with black converse. He no longer had anyone he cared about enough to impress.

Dream met up with a few friends in the dining hall before saying his goodbyes.

For Sapnap, he forced a strained smile, cautious not to worry him.

Dream knew how much Sapnap platonically loved him, and was aware that any stress Dream was undergoing would worry Sapnap as well.

  
The men hugged, said their goodbyes for the next week, and headed on their way.

_________

Dream’s flight had a similar atmosphere to the emotional storm that was brewing in his stomach.

It was practically plagued with turbulence, and Dream, an agnostic, found himself quite literally  _ praying _ they did not crash.

Nevertheless, their plane made it back safely, and he felt his eyes sting as he first caught a glimpse of the bright Florida sun.

Upon entering the baggage claim area, Dream was surprised to see his sister waiting for him.

Out of all of the members in his family, Dream had only ever really gotten along with his sister, Drista. Although she was considerably younger than him, only 14, Dream felt like their sibling bond was fairly strong.

Dream felt a weak grin grow on his face as his sister ran to hug him.

“Dream!” she exclaimed, practically throwing herself into his arms.

  
Dream accepted the hug gladly, however his smile quickly fell when he looked behind Drista and saw his two parents.

Both his mother and father were portraying visibly forced smiles on their faces, offering weak waves to the boy.

Dream pulled out of Drista’s grip as he walked to his parents, greeting them sheepishly.

“Hello, Dream,” his father greeted, looking at him pointedly.

“Interesting outfit!” his mother exclaimed, a hint of malice to her voice.

Dream tried to force a laugh, however only a grimace was expressed in its place. “Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.

\- - - - - -

The family piled up into their parents’ car as they began the drive towards Dream’s family’s house. 

Dream felt himself drift in and out of sleep, exhaustion apparent due to his flight and the jet lag that came with it. Dream tried to ignore the soft pop music coming from the speakers of the car- their parents allowed Drista to plug her phone into the aux.

Dream immediately shot up, however, when a certain song came onto the queue.

_ Love Story by Taylor Swift _

At the mention of Romeo and Juliet in the lyrics, Dream felt himself unable to escape from his thoughts of George.

His memory of himself and his boyfriend reciting the balcony scene together in Edwarde’s class began playing on loop through his mind.

_ O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? _

_ Deny thy father and refuse thy name. _

Deny thy father and refuse thy name.

  
  
  


**Deny thy father and refuse thy name.**

  
  


The line struck him like a bolt of energy.

  
  


_ George. Deny thy father and refuse thy name. _

  
  


He repeated the line to himself in his brain, practically begging for George to somehow hear.

All Dream wanted to do was see  _ him _ .

To experience  _ him _ .

To  _ have  _ him.

\- - 

“...Dream?” Dream heard Drista ask, pulling him out of the fuzziness of his mind.

Dream looked up at her in the car.

“You’re crying… are you okay?”   
  


Dream felt himself instinctively rub his eyes, flinching at the tears now on his hands.

“I’m- I’m fine,” he stuttered out, although both himself and Drista seemed to be unconvinced.

“Okay…” she started, voice trailing off as she continued playing her music.

Dream drifted in and out of consciousness as their family finally pulled up at their house.

It was seemingly almost exactly as Dream remembered it, except for a few changes in paint colour in certain rooms.

Dream followed his family into his house before he went into his old room. He had found a change to the house.

Immediately, he felt pain register in his chest again.

His room, which was once filled with posters of artists, social activists, and bands, was now eerily empty.

Where his array of books used to be now stood home-improvement magazines.

Two books, however, remained.

_ Oh, how cruel the world was. _

One was, as God would have it,  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ by none other than William Shakespeare.

Dream felt himself scoff bitterly at that.  _ Of course _ .

The second, however, was a book of Shakespearean sonnets.

Dream felt himself absentmindedly pick up the book and flip to Sonnet 18.

  
  
  


_ “But thy eternal summer shall not fade, _

_ Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; _

_ Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, _

_ When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: _

_ So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, _

_ So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” _

  
  


Dream reminisced back on the garden of begonia flowers and vines that he and George had worked together in oh so long ago.

Dream thought of his past behavior that day, practically laughing at his naivety.

At the time, he was almost afraid to hug George, as it meant recognizing his feelings for the man.

Now, Dream would practically kill another man if it meant getting to feel George’s touch.

Dream forced himself to put the book back as he collapsed on his blank-looking bed.

All Dream wanted to do was be with George again.

To discuss the iambic pentameter with him,  _ the love meter _ .

To hear his heartbeat.

To have George hear his.

  
  


Dream wanted his George.

  
  
  


He wanted his Plato.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im ngl i kinda enjoy this chapter :)


	16. chapter 16: chosen family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream had noticed his parents were being surprisingly restrained and reasonable.
> 
> Perhaps, it was because Dream chose not to speak to them at all.
> 
> No conversation meant no ability for bad blood.
> 
> He opted to walk to his neighborhood café
> 
> Throughout the past couple of days, Drista had attempted to drag him out of his room to do some sort of substantial activity, however each time, he profusely refused.
> 
> Today, however, he promised himself he would do something.

Dream had allowed himself to lose track of time.

It had been two days since his initial flight home.

The two days consisted of him consistently reading each and every piece of theory by Plato he could find. He reasoned with himself that the information would be useful for his Philosophy and Ethics class, however a more prominent and protruding part of himself knew the implications that came with this choice.

Dream had noticed his parents were being surprisingly restrained and reasonable.

Perhaps, it was because Dream chose not to speak to them at all.

No conversation meant no ability for bad blood.

Throughout the past couple of days, Drista had attempted to drag him out of his room to do some sort of substantial activity, however each time, he profusely refused.

Today, however, he promised himself he would do  _ something _ .

He opted to walk to his neighborhood café.

Dream had gone there practically every day between his off weeks at highschool and college, so he was well accustomed to the staff and atmosphere there. Some of the staff, in fact, he considered some of his closest friends.

Dream showered and fixed his hair, his first time doing so since the ball.

He dressed up in a basic white turtleneck knit sweater and brown slacks. For shoes, he opted to still wear his torn-up black converse - he had left the rest of his shoes at his dorm anyways.

As Dream walked to the café, the familiar view of the small shop gave him a sense of both nostalgia and comfort.

The deep red door accompanied by the distressed brick and wood exterior made him feel at  _ home _ .

More at home, at least, than he had felt at his family’s house.

Dream opened the door, the bell at the top ringing loudly and filling the café space.

Dream looked up to the cashier, watching as their face quickly upturned into a bright and easy smile.

The cashier’s long pink hair was tied into a loose braid, and his sharp features looked especially pronounced under the warm café lighting.

“Dream!” the man exclaimed, practically rushing out from behind the counter to wrap him in a light hug.

Dream accepted the hug graciously, leaning into the touch of his close friend, Techno. Techno was usually not this affectionate, however months without seeing your friend would most likely make even the most introverted be inclined to hug someone.

“Techo, how have you  _ been _ , man?” Dream asked, feeling a grin manifest itself on his face for the first time in what felt like days.

“I’ve been good, Dream! Your hair looks nice long, by the way,” Techno said, motioning to the mass of golden-brown fluff that sat atop Dream’s head.

  
Techno was right; Dream hadn’t cut his hair since before university, and it was now long enough to be wavy and velutinous. Nevertheless, Dream found himself liking the look.

“Thanks, Techno. Your hair looks longer than ever,” Dream commented, a light chuckle escaping both of their lips.

“Yeah, I’ve been too busy at the café and dealing with Quackity to have any time to cut it,” Techno said, laughing softly.

At the mention of Quackity, Dream felt himself almost wheezing.

Quackity was a barista at the café as well, young and full of explicit jokes. While Techno was always collected and meticulous with his planning, Quackity was a firecracker. Dream and Quackity were perhaps even closer than Dream and Techno at times.

“Is Quackity gonna be here?” Dream asked, a grin on his face.

Techno shook his head. “He’s off today, but, for the next week or so, me and Quackity have the night shift.”

Dream nodded as he let his eyes wander over the menu and Techno returned back behind the counter.

“Can I get just a shot of espresso? I need the willpower right now,” Dream said with a light laugh.

Techno giggled at this as well. “Whatever you say, man.”

With that, Dream paid and waited at one of the seating areas on a brown sofa.

Dream turned to the door as he heard a familiar bell, signalling someone had walked in.

The man at the door was wearing dark and black clothes with red accents, and a hood was hiding most of his features.

“Hallo!” he heard Techno greet, taking the customer’s order.

“Hi!” the voice said cheerily, eyes glancing at the pastry choices. “Can I get a small iced latte and a muffin?”

“Which kind?”

“Any kind! Surprise me I guess,” the man said, his hood falling back farther on his head to reveal him smiling and chestnut brown hair.

Dream turned his attention back to the café, taking in the atmosphere he was so used to.

For the first time in days, he wasn’t  _ sad _ . He was thinking of George, but in a much more hopeful way.

He wanted to recite poetry with him at one of the wooden tables.

He wanted to see how the lighting would frame his features.

He wanted to show him his favorite drinks and foods.

He wanted to introduce him to his friends.

He just wanted George.

“Espresso shot for Dream!” Techno called out with a smile, handing him the miniscule-sized cup.

Dreamed downed it in a matter of seconds before shaking his head from the rush of energy.

As Dream headed towards the exit, Techno called out.

“By the way, Dream, if you need anything, let me know. It doesn’t take a neuroscientist to see you’re bothered by something.”

Dream offered a grin. “Thanks, Techno. It means a lot.”

The blush-haired man offered a wave as Dream opened the door to leave and the bell once again sang its familiar tune.

__________________________________

Dream returned home to his parents greeting him at the door with annoyed-looking expressions on their face.

“You should’ve told us you were going out,” his father said, voice an unreadable tone.

Dream shrugged. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“It was,” Dream’s mom chided, voice sounding miffed.

“Whatever. Just please, let me do some work in my room,” Dream said apathetically, pushing past the two.

“No, actually, we won’t,” his father retorted.

Dream raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve been home for days and haven’t told us anything, Dream. If we didn’t know better, we’d assume you were a  _ mute _ .”

Dream felt himself roll his eyes at this. “Just  _ fuck _ off.”

“What the hell, Dream!” his father exclaimed, now practically yelling.

“No, what the hell to  _ you _ ! You’ve practically hated me my whole life!”   
  
“Shut the hell up!” his mother retorted, now joining in on the yelling.

“No, you ‘ _ shut the hell up _ ’! You guys should’ve  _ ‘shut the hell up’  _ years ago, actually!”

Dream realized he may have gone too far when his parents let out sharp exhales.

“Get out,” his father deadpanned.

“What?” Dream asked, confused and shocked.

“You heard your father. Pack your things and go,” his mother said, the same tone lacing her voice.

“You’re joking-”

“No, we’re not, Dream. Pack your shit and find somewhere else to stay for the next five days.”

Dream reluctantly did so, fighting back tears in the process.

_ Why were his parents such pieces of shit? _

_ How did things escalate so quickly? _

_ No, _ Dream had to remind himself,  _ this wasn’t quick _ . His parents had the exact same tone and rash reactions as any other time. He was just no longer going along with their shitty ideals.

While he was packing, Dream could hear muffled yelling between his parents and his younger sister in the room next door. 

_ Like brother, like sister _ , he told himself.

_________________   
  


Dream gathered his luggage and walked begrudgingly to the café. Dream was well aware he was still crying, but he didn’t care.

Dream opened the door and listened for the bell. Once it rang, he watched Techno’s face register his situation.

Immediately, Techno ran out from behind the counter.

Dream tried to ignore the sharp and questioning gazes from the other customers.

“Oh my God, Dream. Are you okay?” Techno asked, his usually monotone voice morphing into something more sincere.

Dream shook his head and practically collapsed into Techno with a hug. 

  
Techno at first instinctively pulled back, but eventually met him with the embrace.

“What’s going on?” Techno asked quietly as the hug broke, brow furrowed with confusion.

Dream explained the situation with shallow breaths and an uneasy tone, watching Techno’s face soften with pity.

“Do you want to stay at my apartment for the next five days until you go back to uni? I have an empty guest room,” Techno offered, clearly trying to help as best he could.

Dream shook his head. “No, I don’t want to be a burden.”

Techno chuckled at this. “Dream,” he started, voice matter-of-fact, “I hate 99% of the people in this stupid-ass town. I would  _ enjoy _ the company.”

Dream felt his frown falter. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i refuse to let dream catch a break  
> (/j btw i promise it will get better soon HSFSJDFK)
> 
> also im trying to get out updates quicker so thats why this one was literally less than 24 hours after the last one lol


	17. chapter 17: a tangible home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream wandered down the streets of his small Florida town, taking in the atmosphere he had worked so hard to escape.
> 
> As much as he hated to admit it, he felt almost a sense of relief walking through the familiar streets.
> 
> This was, much to his dismay, part of his home.
> 
> Dream’s eye was immediately drawn to a recognizable view: the town bookstore.

Living with Techno proved, in short, difficult.

Both of their living habits were uncomfortably different, Techno growing annoyed whenever a single item wasn’t spotless or wasn’t in his preferred place.

As much as Dream wanted to detest Techno’s perfectionist nature, he couldn’t get himself to. Not only was Dream ever so grateful at Techno’s generosity to let Dream stay with him, but he also admired his lack of recklessness.

Recklessness- one of Dream’s practically defining traits.

In order to compensate for him staying with Techno, Dream practically insisted he help work at the café. Although Techno at first refused, he eventually gave in, realizing he could use the help.

Dream however had soon realized working as a barista was, in simplest terms, much more difficult than he had anticipated.

Regardless of the amount of customers, or the complexity of the order, Dream just couldn’t seem to get anything right. Dream had been working there for about two and a half days when Techno finally caved.

“Dream,” he started, pink hair framing his face, “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but oh my God, you suck.”

Dream let out a laugh, not at all surprised by Techno’s bluntness. “Yeah,” Dream said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “I kinda noticed.”

Techno laughed lightly, his monotone voice still ever so present.

“Take the rest of the day off, Dream. Go into town or something. You’re only here for the next like… 5 days or so anyways,” Techno offered, smiling lightly.

“Are you sure?” Dream asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I probably get more work done without you here anyways, if I’m being honest. You genuinely suck.”

Dream chuckled and gathered his things, preparing to walk into the main area of his town.

________________

Dream wandered down the streets of his small Florida town, taking in the atmosphere he had worked so hard to escape.

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt almost a sense of relief walking through the familiar streets.

This was, much to his dismay, part of his home.

Dream’s eye was immediately drawn to a recognizable view: the town bookstore.

It was nothing special, however this shop practically changed his life as a late teenager.

Dream walked through the bookstore door slowly, taking in the familiar sound of the bell alarming a customer had walked in.

The smell of the store was just as he remembered it: myrrh and cedar.

Dream let his eyes wander, fully absorbing the environment of the bookstore- the only aspect of his town that had kept him sane throughout his late childhood.

“Is that  _ Dream _ ?” a voice asked, ripping Dream from his trance.

  
Dream turned to see who had said his name, unable to distinguish the voice at first.

Dream’s eyes widened as he realized who was speaking to him.

_ Phil. _

“Phil!” Dream explained, practically collapsing into Phil with a hug.

Phil accepted the hug immediately, embracing him with equal force.

Phil, the bookstore owner, had been there as a father figure for Dream when his biological one wasn’t. When his real father was rude, brash, and inconsiderate, Phil was the polar opposite. Phil was  _ kind _ .

Dream thought back to his young self, when he had first found himself being harassed by other students.

  
When the students had chased him all the way to the bookstore, Philza had told them off. Not only had he yelled at them, but he banned them from ever entering the store completely after that.

_ “They got the Belt,” Philza had told him. _

_ “The belt?” young Dream clarified, an eyebrow raised. _

_ “Yes. The Belt.” _

That lack of clarification was enough for him at the time.

It still was.

  
  


Dream pulled away from the hug, watching the ginger-haired man grin at him.

“Welcome back from uni for the week!” Phil exclaimed, a content tone lacing his voice.

“Thanks, Phil. It’s great to see you.”

Phil motioned for Dream to follow him, leading him towards a small reading and lounging area. Dream sat on an armchair across from Phil who took the sofa.

“So,” Phil started, “tell me all about school.”

Dream smiled sheepishly, unaware of where exactly to begin.

Dream began slowly explaining his classes and courses, careful not to accidentally mention George. As much as he trusted Phil, he didn’t feel the need to go in detail on his and George’s relationship.

“...One of the last lessons we did in my Shakespearean Lit class was actually performing scenes from Romeo and Juliet,” Dream continued.

Phil chuckled lightly.

“Oh, lord. How cliché,” he said, laughing. “Out of curiosity, which scene did you do?”

“We did the balcony scene. Practically taken out of a cheesy romance movie.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “ _ We _ ?”

Dream hadn’t realized he had slipped up.

“My friend and I, I mean,” he said, backtracking, feeling his face heat up. “We were partners for the scene.”   
  
“Oh,” Phil said, smirking lightly. “Tell me about them.”

“About… my friend?” Dream clarified.

Phil nodded. “Yup. Just overly curious, if I’m being completely honest.”

Dream was confused, but he obliged nonetheless. “Well, uh, he’s super cool. His name is George. He’s genuinely one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. He was my roommate.”

“ _ Was _ ?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow once again.

“It’s a long story.”

Phil shrugged. “I’ve got time.”

Dream slowly explained his situation, careful not to suggest anything romantic between the two boys. He made sure to leave out aspects of the ball as well. Specifically, the kiss.

“Holy shit,” Phil exclaimed, face unreadable.

“Yeah.”

“If I’m overstepping, please let me know Dream, but it seems like you’re hiding something,” Phil said, an illegible look on his face.

Dream thought for a second before continuing.

“Phil, if I tell you something, will you promise not to judge me?”

Phil looked confused, but nodded.

“I like guys. George specifically, I guess.”

Phil chuckled at this.

That was not the reaction Dream had expected.

“Dream, any dimwit could see that. When I asked you to describe him, your face practically turned bright red. And, when you talked about him, your face practically lit up,” Phil said giggling, no malice in his voice.

“Am I that obvious?” Dream asked, laughing lightly.

“Definitely,” Phil started, tone mellowing out. “Now, start your story over, and tell me the  _ truth _ about why he isn’t your roommate anymore.”   
  


Dream sighed and did as he was told, not sparing any detail. 

When he finally finished, Phil’s facial expression could only be described as pure shock.

“Well,” Phil started, “If George’s father was here, he’d  _ definitely _ get the belt,” Phil announced, leading to a semi-awkward chuckle from Dream.

“Seriously, though, Dream, I am so sorry that happened to you. If you want to talk about this any more, please let me know. I’ll always be here for you, bud.”

Dream nodded, knowing he would probably take Phil up on his offer.

“I’ll leave you to it, Phil. I’m going to go browse the store a little.”

And so, he did.

Dream wandered around the shop, letting his finger linger over the sturdy spines of the book covers. He carefully examined each piece of text and typography, admiring his only true sense of home in his physical hometown.

  
Dream had practically forgotten about this store while he was at university.

Now, he practically couldn’t imagine leaving.

Dream felt himself wander over to the philosophy section of the books, scouring through the vast array of options.

Dream picked up  _ Phaedo _ by Plato.

As much as he didn’t want to give into his temptations, knowing it would only make his feeling of missing George stronger, Dream let himself succumb to his misery.

He began reading, taking in the words of Plato as if it was George speaking indirectly to him.

As he read Plato’s views on immortality of the soul, Dream found himself wondering if George felt the same way about the universe as Plato.

The next time he saw George, Dream thought to himself, maybe he’d ask.

_ If _ , that is, he saw him again.   
  


Dream realized he had almost finished the book when he practically jumped at the sound of the ringing of the bell through the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed !! i already have a clear vision for the next chapter lol so im hoping its out fairly soon :D
> 
> ps-> i made a short lil coffee shop au oneshot if you guys want to check it out :DD


	18. chapter 18: a burning infatuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream returned back to his book, mindlessly reading through the final dozen or so pages. When he finally finished, he began to get up from the reading nook to grab another book when he heard Phil’s voice boom throughout the store.
> 
> “So, what’s your name, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?”
> 
> Dream couldn’t make out the muffled response of the man he was unable to see from his perspective.
> 
> “Your name is George, huh?” Dream heard Phil clarify.
> 
> George.

Dream was far enough from the door where he couldn’t make out the person who had entered, however he could tell from context clues that they looked around 5’8 or 5’9 based on where Phil was looking.

Dream brushed the customer off; the least he needed was to be reminded of George by seeing another man his age.

  
Dream returned back to his book, mindlessly reading through the final dozen or so pages. When he finally finished, he began to get up from the reading nook to grab another book when he heard Phil’s voice boom throughout the store.

“So, what’s your name, sir, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Dream couldn’t make out the muffled response of the man he was unable to see from his perspective.

“Your name is George, huh?” Dream heard Phil clarify.

_ George _ .

Dream instantly flinched at the name.

It would be impossible that that was him.

There was, logically, no way.

Dream refused to let his hopes rise. Much to his dismay, and against his own will, he forced himself to sit down and read again.

“Do you happen to know someone named Dream?” Dream made out Phil’s voice saying.

_ Don’t get your hopes up, Dream _ .

“Wait, actually?” Phil practically yelled.

At this, Dream let his curiosities get the best of him.

He practically ran down where he was sitting to the front of the store.

  
  
  


Then,

he saw him.

  
  
  


It was George.

  
  


His hair was mussed, and his face and eyes looked stained red and strained with tears.

Still, Dream thought George looked as beautiful as ever.

“Pla-Plato?” Dream asked meekly, staring at the Brit who was looking back at him with wide and shocked eyes.

“Diogen-”

Before George could finish, Dream practically surged towards George’s lips to kiss him. After a few seconds, the boys mutually pulled back and grinned stupidly at the other.

  
  
Dream and George.

  
  


Together once more.   
  


Dream turned back to Phil, who was carrying a surprised but content expression.

“I assume this is the George you told me about, then?” he asked with a chuckle.

Dream giggled, absentmindedly intertwining his fingers with George’s. When he realized what he had done, he felt his face flush. He missed being able to  _ feel _ George. He missed George in general.

Before Dream could respond, he felt George lean up and whisper into his ear.

“You’re blushing, Dream,” he said softly, his hot breath tickling Dream’s neck. Dream tried to prevent the all-out burning of his cheeks he had expected from that action, but it was too late. His face was ruddy and stupidly disheveled.

George giggled. “Yes, by the way, I am most likely the guy Dream was talking about. He is quite infatuated with me, you know,” he teased, leading to a light-hearted elbow to the ribs from Dream as well as a ‘ _ You’re an idiot _ .’ Still, Dream was grinning practically ear-to-ear.

Phil smirked lightly. “I can tell. He was practically mopin’ around crying about his ‘Georgie’ fellow all day.”

If Dream’s face wasn’t red with embarrassment before, it  _ definitely  _ was now.

Dream muttered an incoherent, “what the fuck, Phil,” before eventually turning to a laughing George.

“George, can we-”

“-talk?” George finished, smiling softly.

Dream nodded, and the two boys exited the store hand-in-hand, waving a small goodbye to Phil.

_____________________

Dream and George walked the Florida streets, fingers intertwined and hearts giddy.

Dream caught George up on the, at least to him, less important matters of the last week.

He explained his parents, his ordeal at the café, the books he had recently read, and overall his experiences in Florida.

He made George promise to wait to discuss  _ his _ situation, however, until the boys got situated at the café Techno managed.

When the boys arrived at the café, the doorbell alerting their presence rang through the door.

Techno and Quackity looked up at him with wide eyes.

Then, Dream watched as the realization set in.

“Holy shit, Dream, is that George?” Quackity exclaimed loudly, leading to dirty looks from other café patrons. Quite frankly, though, Dream didn’t care.

Dream nodded, a wave of elation passing over him as George began squeezing his hand more tightly. Whether it was possessiveness, nervousness, a mix of the two, or another reason altogether, Dream didn’t care. He loved the feeling of George’s hand intermixed with his own.

“He looks short,” Techno commented flatly, leading to a larger-than-life wheeze from Dream and a surprised scoff from George.

“Don’t worry,” the pink haired man commented, “I’m just messin’ with you. Quackity can take care if you all want something to drink, or something.”

Dream watched as George ordered a rather complex drink: an iced white café mocha with two shots of espresso and vanilla cold foam. Dream was too flabbergasted by the complexity that he offered to order the same thing so Quackity wouldn’t have to remember  _ two _ orders.

The boys sat down at a table, and Dream felt his eyes fixed on the beautiful boy before him.

“You’ve been staring for a while,” George commented.

“I know.”

Dream reached out and grabbed George’s hand, intertwining each in his own.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened, George?” he asked softly.

George nodded.

“Honestly, I don’t know where to begin,” he started, clearing his throat.

“When my father first forced me out of the ballroom at the university, I basically tried  _ escaping _ from his grasp. When he realized I wasn’t willingly going with him, he practically dragged me into a car and drove me to the airport. That is when I sent you a picture of the ticket.”

“And then you blocked me,” Dream commented, no malice in his voice.

“ _ He _ blocked you,” George corrected, his index finger raised in protest.

“I know.”

George continued.

“Once I got past security, he couldn’t come with me.”

“He wasn’t flying with you?” Dream asked, a brow raised.

George shook his head. “Nope. His plan was to basically ship me off to the other campus location and meet me there in a week or so.”

Dream felt his eyes widen as he motioned for George to continue his story.

“Once I was past security, since I am obviously a legal adult, I went to the help desk for my airline and asked to exchange my ticket to-”

“To Florida,” Dream exclaimed breathlessly.

“To Florida.”

  
“And now you’re here,” Dream said, a smile growing on his face at his recurring realization that George was once again within his grasp.

“And now I’m here,” George repeated, a similar grin on his own face.

Dream leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to George’s cheek just as footsteps echoed next to their table.

“Jesus Christ dude, get a room,” Quackity exclaimed, handing the men their drinks.

George smiled sheepishly as Dream snickered. Dream motioned for Quackity to pull up a chair next to the boys so they could converse a bit.

“I’m Quackity, by the way,” the raven-haired man said directed towards George, extending an arm to shake his hand.

George removed one of his hands from Dream’s grip and shook Quackity’s hand before once again rejoining Dream’s. 

“I’m George,” he greeted with a shy smile.

Both of the boys mutually removed their hands from the other so they could freely gesticulate and hold their drinks as desired.

“I know. Dream here,” he started, motioning to the blond, “has been fucking simping for you for the past four days. He is literally obsessed.”

Dream rolled his eyes dramatically before playfully slapping his friend’s shoulder.

“You should see how obsessed with me is when he-”

“I swear to God, George,” Dream interrupted, pressing his index finger up to George’s mouth.

“Damn, George, you’re kinda popping off,” Quackity, exclaimed, getting up. “I have to return to work, but please for the love of God, stop eye fucking in this café.”

The boys laughed as they eventually talked and finished their drinks.

As the evening hour grew nearer, and the air became crisper, the boys opted to leave the café and instead stand hand-in-hand in the cool Florida nighttime air.

“I missed you so much, George, but what about your dad?” Dream asked when the atmosphere morphed from exciting and new to mellow and calm.

George shrugged. “Respectfully,  _ fuck  _ my dad. I would cross a thousand oceans and deny my father’s wishes a million times if it meant being able to see you smile for even a millisecond, Dream.”

“Do you mean that, George? Genuinely?” Dream asked, voice hoarse from the sudden heat in the air brought on by George’s openness and affection.

“I do, Dream. I would do anything for you.”

Dream thought back to his readings of  _ Romeo and Juliet _ .

“ _ Deny thy father and refuse thy name _ ,” Dream muttered to himself, staring down at where the boys’ shoes stood on the pavement shyly.

Dream felt his face flush as the brunet gently grabbed his chin and tilted it up to meet his eyes.

“-And I'll no longer be a Capulet. 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy: Thou art thyself, though not a Montague,” George finished, smiling sincerely.

Dream watched the boy for a second before leaning in slowly so their lips met.

Unlike in the café, this kiss was long, slow, and intimate. It felt as if the boys were intertwining into one, passion and amour turning the affection of boys into something greater than themselves. Blond and brunet hair became gold. Brown and green eyes became hazel. Tan and fair skin became beige. 

Eventually when the boys pulled away, George pressed his forehead against Dream’s. “I am so in love with you,” he whispered, his accent accentuating every syllable.

Dream grinned, his forehead still pressed against George’s. “I want to hear your heartbeat,” he said quietly.

George pulled away before guiding Dream’s head onto his chest.

The sound of a heartbeat flooded through Dream’s ears.

  
That was George.

  
Dream felt himself absentmindedly tap George’s waist to the beat of his heart.

“If you were a sonnet, George, I would never stop rereading you. You would plague my entire sense of being,” he mumbled into George’s chest. He giggled a bit as he heard George thickly swallow a lump in his throat.

“I have a love poem I wrote you, actually” the Brit said quietly.

_ The love poems Sapnap had told him about. _

Dream was taken aback by this, and felt himself remove himself from George’s chest. Dream looked down at the man before him, smiling softly.

“If you want to share it,” Dream started, running a hand through the brunet’s hair, “I would love to listen.”

George cleared his throat and began.

“I talk to the moon every evening,

Whispering my love for you to its pale emission.

If I could steal the moon for you, God willing, I would.

Just say the word and I will let you in- grant you all admission.

Dream, my Dream, I am so entranced by you.

Your skin is like honey. Your lips are like morning dew.

I would deny my sense of being forever if it meant seeing you again one day.

If you ever felt broken, I would assume power to help belay.

I am infatuated by you, your smile, and your light.

If you are my sun, my daytime, I am your moon, your night.

I love you so, my Dream.”

Dream stared at the boy, eyes wide and face ruddy.

“I’m sorry, poetry really isn’t my thing and-”

Before George could finish, Dream grabbed his face, surging their lips together. It was much quicker than their last, but just as passionate.

“I love you so fucking much, Plato,” Dream said pulling away giggling, high on elation and joviality.

“I love you just as much, Diogenes,” George said with a light chuckle.

A phone ringing disrupted their amorous exchange.

George groaned and Dream chuckled.

“You might want to get that,” Dream commented. “‘Could be important.”   
  
George rolled his eyes but pulled out his phone all the same.

Dream watched George’s smile drop as the redness of his face subsided and was replaced by a blue-tinted paleness.

Dream felt his face parallel the same expression as George slowly showed him the phone screen.

_   
_ _ Incoming Call _

  
  
  
  


**_Father_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did u catch that little easter egg from my short story "coffee conversations" with the order hehehe ;)
> 
> hope u enjoyed!! as always, any comments, kudos, criticism, etc are appreciated :P


	19. chapter 19: icarus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George was his heartbeat.
> 
> He made up every coherent thought in his otherwise disorganized mind.
> 
> If George was the sun, let Dream be an Icarus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little bit of time to get out :P hope u enjoy :)
> 
> btw this is the last "normal" chapter! next chapter is an epilogue

Dream felt his breath hitch in his throat as he reread the name displayed on George’s phone.

**_Father_ ** _. _

_ Of course he would call him, _ Dream thought to himself.  _ His son quite literally ran away and fled the country _ .

George looked up at him with guilt-filled eyes.

If Dream was closely inspecting George’s appearance, which he was, he would have noticed George’s eyes slowly fade into a pink tint as translucent speckles of tears formed in the inner corners of his eyes. 

He noticed. For George’s sake, however, he didn’t comment on it.

“Take the call,” Dream offered. “It’s okay.”   
  
George nodded, and Dream tried to offer a soft smile as he placed a protective arm over the small of the brunet’s back.

Dream watched cautiously as George’s finger hovered over the green “Accept Call” button.

It felt like minutes until George finally lowered his thumb.

_ *Click.* _

A loud huff was emitted from the phone screen.

_ “Well bloody fucking hell, George,”  _ the gruff voice said.

Dream heard George inhale shakily and, in response, instinctively moved his hand up so it was gripping him tightly and protectively around George’s waist.

Dream felt himself exhale in slight relief after George relaxed into his touch.

“Father,” George greeted coldly.

A sharp and sardonic laugh rang through the phone.  _ “So, George, where exactly did you run away to?” _

“Florida,” George supplied, no emotion in his voice.

_ “Did you run along to your little boyfriend?”  _ he asked, clearly mockingly. His voice was coupled with an atmosphere of súton and venom.

“Doesn’t matter.”

_ “So that’s a yes, then.” _

Dream gently rubbed circles into the area surrounding George’s rib cage with his thumb, careful to make George aware that he was there for him at this moment.

“What’s it to you?” George spat, a fiery burst of umbrage.

_ Another laugh _ .

  
Dream could feel the chagrin begin to burn through his skin as well, but he attempted his best to not show it for George’s sake.

_ “You’re my son, George.” _

A pause.

_ “Or, were my son, rather.” _

  
  


George seemed to practically shrivel up at this. His anger had dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. Dream tightened his grip on the man once again.

“What am I now, then, if not your son?” George asked, the fury in his voice being diluted by the audible shakiness breaths Dream could vaguely hear.

_ “A disappointment.” _

Fuck.

George choked out a muffled sob and immediately raised his hand up to his mouth, seemingly trying and failing to cover it so his dad wouldn’t hear.

  
Dream reached out his arms and let George collapse into him, quiet whimpers escaping his lips.

_ Another laugh _ .

At this point, Dream couldn’t handle the derisive and irascible bullshit coming from George’s father’s line.

“You know what,” Dream started, releasing himself from George’s grip to grab hold of his phone, “Fuck you!” he exclaimed into the phone.

“Dream,” George exclaimed softly, more breath than actual voice. He seemed more surprised than annoyed, though.

_ “Looks like your boyfriend is a little hot-headed, George.” _

_ Well, he’s not wrong _ .

“Don’t fucking talk about my boyfriend,” George chided, resuming hold of his phone.

The anger appeared again.

Dream took notice of the fact that George was only truly angry when his father spoke poorly of  _ Dream _ .

  
_ Dream was George’s weakness. _

  
  


_ George was Dream’s, too. _

  
  


Dream felt his eyes widen, taken aback yet impressed by George’s forwardness.

_ “Why can’t you just be  **normal** , George. You are making both of our lives difficult,”  _ his father said with an exasperated-sounding sigh.

This time, it was George scoffing at him.

“You know what? Fuck you. Absolutely fuck you. I am sick and tired of your bullshit, dad. I don’t give a fuck what you think. I don’t give a fuck about anything, actually. I just care about Dream. And, if the standard for ‘ _ normal _ ’ is being a piece of shit like you, then I will gladly pass.”

Dream stood, frozen by the words that had just spewed from his lover’s mouth. 

_ George cared about him more than a branch of his own bloodline. _

  
  
  


_ Deny thy father and refuse thy name. _

  
  
  


Dream intertwined the boys’ fingers, careful to be slow so if George wanted to pull away he had the chance.

He didn’t pull away.

_ “You are not and will never be my family anymore.” _

George snickered mockingly.

“You were never truly my family anyways,” he retorted, practically smashing the “END CALL” button afterwards.

  
  
  


At this, Dream wrapped his arms around the boy’s neck, careful to cradle the boy protectively so he could feel, through Dream’s embrace, just how much he cared for him. 

Dream felt his shoulders relax as George slowly relaxed into the hug.

Then, George cried.

George’s sobs echoed through the empty Florida streets, the boys alone only with the comfort of the other.

In a place recognized by neither of the boys as ‘home,’ they still found a sense of belonging in the arms of their counterpart.

When George’s whimpers quieted, and breath slowed, the boys finally pulled away from the tight hug to press their foreheads together.

“Dream?” George whispered quietly.

Dream could feel his warm breath ghosting over the lower half of his face.

“Yeah?”

George giggled lightly, notes of somberness yet earnestness lacing his laugh.

“If you are my Romeo, by God, let me be your Juliet. Civil blood may have made civil hands unclean. Our toils may have been sponsored by our parents. Yet, our love is not death-marked. Our love is more alive than any mortal being. Our love is God. Our love is the moon, the sun, the stars, and everything that coexists between them. Our love is energy. Our love is organic.”

Dream giggled back, pressing a soft kiss on the forehead of the brunet.

“Our love is us.”

______

Dream and George sat at the airport, stiff seats and dirty carpet flooding their peripheral vision.

Dream and George had said their goodbyes to Techno and Quackity before security - Quackity’s goodbye being “Later losers! Don’t fuck in the plane bathroom!” while Techno’s was a weak wave - and eventually had found themselves at their gate.

Both of them were unsure.

Both of them were scared.

Dream could hear it in the waveringness of George’s voice.

He could see it in the weakness of his smiles.

He could feel it in the delicateness of his touch.

  
George was afraid.

Dream was shaken.

Together, they were a hilariously beautiful disaster.

\--

The plane ride was smooth.

A calm before the storm, perhaps.

The sky was a foggy dusk above the clouds. Instead of the usual raven blackness, it was a smoky grey. 

The darkness was behind them, perhaps.

All that was left was to return to the dormitories.

Maybe, they would have a room waiting back for them.

Maybe, they would have Kipp David.

___

Dream and George stood hand in hand, the towering wooden doors of the university in front of them. 

Dream rubbed circles into George’s palm, fidgeting nervously as they entered the university.

Both were half-expecting to enter the university and immediately be shunned away. Perhaps, someone would have already taken over their dormitory.

As the boys checked in with Niki of student services, however, it seemed eerily …. Normal.

They were not kicked out.

They were not welcomed with blaring trumpets and flags.   
  
There weren’t hundreds staring at them.

They were simply  _ normal _ .

Dream couldn’t help but let a smile manifest itself on his face.

Life was finally normal.

He had George.

  
George had him.

George was his heartbeat.

He made up every coherent thought in his otherwise disorganized mind.

If George was the sun, let Dream be an Icarus.

The only thing that could possibly separate the two would be death. Even then, the boys would discover a way to reconnect.

Their love was stronger than mortality.

Their love was organic.

Their love was a steady beat.

Their love was written in prose.

  
Their love was  _ theirs _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im praying someone noticed the “I don’t give a fuck what you think. I don’t give a fuck about anything, actually. I just care about Dream,” i parodied from dream’s rant about spirit SJDKHFKSF.
> 
> Also I didn’t realize until I was editing that I wrote “Dream was shaken” which sounds just like dreamwastaken which is so funny to me idky.
> 
> BTW The “our love is god” wasn’t meant to be a Heather’s reference but I will gladly pretend it is
> 
> Final chapter (it’s an epilogue) out soon :D


	20. chapter 20: the moon is beautiful, isn't it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tan sweater vests that had frayed threads on the edges.
> 
> The smell of sequoia leaves and metanoia.
> 
> Glassy eyes and watering mouths.
> 
> Foggy afternoons hinging the point of dusk.
> 
> Over-exaggerated philosophy.
> 
> Elysian impressionist artwork.
> 
> Coffee-stained porcelain.
> 
> These were only a few of the things that came to mind when Dream pictured George.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going into this, I had no idea y’all would enjoy it so much. (edit: 5k hits? what?? is this what fame feels like????)
> 
> Thank you to everyone for the support :)
> 
> To like the 3-5 people who consistently comment btw ilyasm <33
> 
> Also, if you want more … quite literally right when this is posted, I have uploaded chapter 1 to my new story. (ik im milking this guys i just like writing it smh /lh)
> 
> Skaterboy Dream highscool au …? Never ………………...
> 
> Check it out after this if you want :)
> 
> With that, enjoy! Hope you had as much fun with “iambic pentameter” as i did :)

Tan sweater vests that had frayed threads on the edges.

The smell of sequoia leaves and metanoia.

Glassy eyes and watering mouths.

Foggy afternoons hinging the point of dusk.

Over-exaggerated philosophy.

Elysian impressionist artwork.

Coffee-stained porcelain.

  
  
  


These were only a few of the things that came to mind when Dream pictured George.

Perhaps, it was the way his protruding crimson cheeks contrasted his otherwise milky and unsullied skin.

Perhaps, it was the way he gesticulated and expressed himself so he looked more like an animation than a mere human. 

Perhaps it was his laugh, always wavering between a scoff and a giggle.

In a world full of ‘perhaps,’ one thing was certain and absolute.

It was always George.

____

“-Hmm, not quite…” Dream started, motioning to the lecture hall to call out more answers.

Dream let his eyes wander over the students, eager freshmen raising their hands with vigor and productive ambition.

His eyes caught on a student with split-dyed hair, looking practically everywhere around the room besides at him.

_ ‘What was his name again? _ ’ Dream thought to himself.

_ Rainbow? _

_ Ranbo? _

_ No, _ he recalled,  _ Ranboo. _

  
  


“Ranboo,” Dream started, making sure to somewhat emotionally coddle the student due to their apparent anxieties, “Do  _ you _ know the first two lines of Sonnet 141?”

The student raised their eyes from their desk as they sheepishly rubbed the back of their neck.

Dream remembered his years as a freshman, prudently going over every single answer to make sure he didn’t participate without meticulously making sure he was correct.

Even then, Dream only found solace in his companionship rather than the naive accuracy of his classroom answers.

The split-haired boy cleared his throat. “Um… is it…,” he began, leg bouncing up and down with what Dream could only assume was hesitance. 

“-In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, for they in thee a thousand errors note,” a voice interrupted, reverberation echoing through the hall.

Dream jumped at the sound and turned to see a man in a light blue tweed coat and dark brown loafers grinning back at him docily. His circular wire-rimmed-glasses slipped off of his nose as he giggled, forcing the interrupting man to fix them back atop his nose bridge.

“Mr. David!” a student called out, the students now aware of Dream’s partner’s presence. 

The brunet laughed and walked next to Dream, grinning at the blond.

“Hello, students,” he greeted, waving jokingly. “Is Mr. Toussaint doing a good job teaching you all?”

The students laughed, no one offering a concrete answer.

Dream knew George probably took that as a yes.

Dream knew it really didn’t matter either way.

Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to impress George - just the slightest bit.

“Well, class, I apologize for that absolutely  _ rude _ introduction-” he started, leading to a covert elbow in the rib from George, “but that is our time.”

The students laughed lightly and slowly flooded out of the classroom.

Dream watched the black-and-white-haired student meet up with two of his friends in the class -  _ Tommy and Tubbo, was it? - _ and prepare to leave.

“Wait, Ranboo!” the blonde called, beckoning for him to wait to leave.

The boy seemed rather shaken, but waited all the same.

“Good work today, kid. Don’t worry - if you don’t know the answer, by the way, it is never a big deal.”

At this, the student grinned, thanked him, and bid Dream a goodbye.

Dream felt a wave of elation and domesticity run over him as he felt a certain man hug him from the back and bury his face into the back of his neck. 

“You’re such a good guy, Dream,” George flattered, hugging him tighter.

Dream practically melted into the touch. “Just doing my job…  _ ‘Mr. David’ _ ” he teased, giggling softly with the brunet.

The brunet laughed into his retort. “Shut the fuck up.”

______

Dream sat on his bed, taking a moment to appreciate the grayscale-like dusk outside the window across the room.

The moon was the singular light illuminating his bedroom, fully encompassing the area with a pale glow.

The moon was truly beautiful.

He had realised that long ago.

The quiet stillness of the room was interrupted by a slow creaking door.

_ George. _

He entered with a soft smile and half-closed eyes.

Before Dream could comment on how statuesque George looked bathing in the effulgence, the brunet practically jumped on him.

“You’re gorgeous,” he commented between giggles.

Dream scoffed light-heartedly. “Shut up.”

Throughout their relationship, George has gotten much bolder.

Much more comfortable.

_ Much more George _ .

Dream and George reconstructed where they were sitting on the bed and instead opted to insert themselves across from each other under the covers.

Dream reached his hand out to rub the other’s cheekbone.

George seemed to relax under the gentle touch.

Dream’s breath hitched as the brunet’s eyes flicked down to his lips.

Even after years of being together, Dream still got chills before kissing his partner.

His love.

Dream finally leaned forward and connected their lips.

Every kiss they shared felt like they were compensating for it being their last.

  
Every touch they connected with felt as awestrucking as if it was their first.

“You know, Dream, for a professor, you’re pretty hot,” George joked softly, voice almost a whisper.

“For my  _ fiancé,  _ you’re pretty hot too,” Dream commented, winking.

George giggled, and with that the atmosphere shifted from joking to earnest.

“I love you, Dream,” George began quietly, reaching up a hand to move one of the hairs that had fallen onto Dream’s forehead behind his ear. “I can’t believe you of all people chose  _ me _ .”

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Dream commented softly, leaning in closer towards George.

“Good.”

Dream motioned towards the window, still only centimeters away from George. “The moon is beautiful, isn't it?”

George smiled softly as the boys met eye contact once again. “Yes, the moon is beautiful.”

Dream swore he could hear George’s heartbeat through his words.

It was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNNNDDDD that’s a wrap, folks! I hope you enjoyed reading this :) every single one of y’alls comments make me smile so hard! Im soft for all of y’all


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